Abraxas
by Brennus
Summary: It started with a surprising proposals from an unexpected source, but that was only the beginning. Soon, Harry finds himself dealing with forces beyond his imagination and dreams, and ultimately finds that the world is not what he believed it to be.
1. Chapter 1 – A Dangerous Meeting

**Chapter 1 – A Dangerous Meeting**

 **AN**

I actually started this story back before 'Homecoming' but felt it was a bit too close in content to my 'Thorny Rose' series, not to mention a bit of a dull HBP re-write. However, I was saved by reading two absolutely terrible books I bought on Kindle for about £0.79 each (and, yes, I was ripped off). The first was a second rate Tom Clancy style 'pre-history' of WW3, written by some journalist who apparently had zero experience of anything military. The second was a book on Gnostic religion which started off interestingly enough, but then nosedived into some sort of manual for a suicide cult. I only bought it because I was interested in the Gnostic elements of Gene Wolfe's masterful 'Book of the New Sun' series - I wasn't expecting someone to tell me to top myself once I'd reached a higher plane of existence! However, both books ended up having elements I could incorporate into my story, although it might take a while before you start to see them.

Arnel is back as my trusty beta reader, and is already earning her money. Not that I pay her, of course, other than in eternal gratitude.

* * *

Harry lay on his bed, fully dressed, and stared at the ceiling. He'd been back at Privet Drive for nearly a week now, but time had ceased to have much meaning to him. Depression had robbed him of all his energy, and he could do nothing apart from just lay there, stewing in his own misery.

It was the guilt that was the worst thing, he felt. The knowledge that if he'd only stopped to think, or listened to Hermione, his godfather would still be alive. He was a fool, and Sirius had been the one who had paid the price for that foolishness.

Harry had barely moved from his bed since he'd arrived home from Hogwarts. He'd only left his room to use the bathroom and to take the occasional meagre meal. He mostly survived on packets of crisps and sweets he brought back with him. His poor diet was making him sick, but he was so upset that it hardly made a difference, anyway.

As night fell and the only sound he could hear was Hedwig clicking her beak occasionally, Harry slowly drifted off into a restless, troubled sleep…

He awoke with a start, aware of the feeling of hard, cold stone beneath him. Jumping up, he looked around in alarm. Instantly, he recognised the dark cavernous space that was the Chamber of Secrets.

"I must be dreaming," he muttered to himself.

"You might be forgiven for thinking so, but it's not the case, I can assure you," the cultured voice of a young man said calmly from somewhere nearby.

Harry spun around to see Tom Riddle standing impassively a few yards away. He was dressed in his Slytherin robes, and looked exactly the same as Harry remembered from his encounter with the diary, over three years previously. Desperately, Harry reached for his wand, only to remember that it was still on his desk back at Privet Drive. Slowly, he began to back away from his hated foe, in preparation of turning and running.

"It's no use trying to flee," Riddle announced smoothly. "There's no escape from this place."

"How did you manage to bring me back here?" Harry demanded, his voice shaking from a mix of fear and anger.

"Oh, we're not in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry, this is all happening inside your head," Riddle smiled.

"What? What are you talking?" Harry said abruptly, still eyeing his foe warily.

Riddle walked forward and tapped Harry lightly on the forehead with his finger. "We're in here," he announced in an amused voice.

"How did you manage to get inside my head?" Harry asked with mounting panic.

"Harry, I've been here for years," Riddle replied. "In fact, I've been here since October 1981. You know that."

"I… what are you talking about? What are you saying?" Harry spluttered, his eyes wide in alarm.

"Have you really not figured it out yet? Come along, Harry, there have been enough clues! The diary that possessed little Ginny Weasley was the biggest one, your mysterious connection to Voldemort being another. Have you really not figured out what happened to you?" Riddle asked smugly.

"Why do you talk like Voldemort is a different person?" Harry yelled angrily. "You told me that you're really him, remember?"

"Ah, no. That wasn't me, not really. Perhaps a part of something I once was, but not actually me," Riddle explained.

"What the hell are you talking about? Get out of my head!" Harry all but screamed.

"That's the trick, isn't it?" Riddle laughed. "But perhaps a more detailed explanation is in order. I used to be part of the person you know as Lord Voldemort, a tiny part of him, anyway. I am a splinter of his soul that became embedded in you when Voldemort's body was destroyed by your mother's brave sacrifice back in 1981. I exist in you much the same way as that other splinter of Voldemort's soul existed when it was placed in the diary."

"There was part of Voldemort's actual soul in the diary?" Harry gasped in horror. "But why? How did it get there?"

"It was put there intentionally. The diary, you see, was turned into an object called a Horcrux," Riddle explained. "A Horcrux is a powerful object in which a Dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her own soul for the purpose of attaining immortality. Creating a Horcrux gives one the ability to anchor one's soul to earth if their body is destroyed. The more Horcruxes one creates, the closer one is to true immortality. Creating multiple Horcruxes can be costly to the creator, however, both diminishing their humanity and even physically disfiguring them."

"So, that's why Voldemort looks like a snake now?" Harry asked, his fear slowly being overcome by his curiosity.

"Indeed, and it also explains why he wasn't killed when your mother's most excellent magic caused his Killing Curse to rebound on himself. His body might have been destroyed, but his soul was anchored to this earth," Riddle said grimly.

"And that's why he needed to obtain a new body!" Harry exclaimed.

"I think you're beginning to catch on, young Harry," Riddle smiled. "Now, think of the consequences of these Horcruxes existing. What do they mean to you?"

"They mean... shit! He can't be killed, can he? Voldemort is immortal and we can't defeat him!" Harry cried in alarm.

"Now, Harry, let's have less of that defeatist attitude, eh? You are correct in stating he cannot be killed at the moment, but should all his Horcruxes be destroyed, then he can die just like anyone else. The hard part will be finding these objects and dealing with them," Riddle informed him calmly.

Harry suddenly looked at the older boy suspiciously. "Why are you telling me all this?" Harry demanded. "You said you were a part of Voldemort's soul. You should be doing everything you can to hinder me, not help me."

"Ah, now we come to the interesting part," Riddle grinned. "Tell me, Harry, what do you think will happen to me; a tiny, isolated part Voldemort's soul, if you are killed?"

"I guess that you'll end up like Voldemort did after he attacked me when I was a toddler, won't you? Just become a disembodied spirit?" Harry speculated cautiously.

"I rather think not," Riddle disagreed. "I am in essence a Horcrux, just like the diary was. When you so bravely destroyed that book several years ago, the soul fragment in it was cast out into the ether, destined to exist in that grey limbo between life and death. That splinter of soul was just an anchor, a fragment, and couldn't exist by itself. If you are killed, and if things continue the way they have been going I fear that is a certainty, a similar fate will greet me."

"So… hold on," Harry floundered. "If I have a Horcrux inside me… do I have to die for Voldemort to be defeated?"

"As it stands, yes," Riddle replied bluntly.

Harry's legs folded underneath him and he crumpled to the floor. While his life hadn't exactly been a bed of roses, to learn that he was fated to die just short of his sixteenth birthday was a bitter, bitter blow. His head swam and he felt tears forming in his eyes. Desperately, he tried to think of a way out of the situation.

"Perhaps if I told Dumbledore…" he began.

"Do you really think Dumbledore doesn't know all this?" Riddle interrupted him contemptuously. "Everything that has happened to you in your short life has occurred due to the manipulations of that man. He knew you had a Horcrux in your head from the moment he saw you, which is why he hid you away with your dreadful Muggle relatives. Letting you live in the Wizarding world would have been far too much of a risk. If you'd picked up the wrong book, or some clever person had put two and two together, your terrible secret might have been uncovered."

"He wouldn't do that," Harry protested, although his voice didn't carry much conviction. His faith in the old wizard was already strained to breaking point.

"Think about the prophecy, then," Riddle urged. "Clearly, Dumbledore knew it from the beginning and was aware that you were the one with 'the power to vanquish the Dark Lord' as it states. Tell me, if he knew that, why didn't he do everything in his power to make you a great wizard? If I knew that a child was destined to fight a terrible foe, I would have started his magical training as early as possible, given him special care and attention, and basically made sure he was well prepared to face his enemy. Did he do that for you, Harry?"

"He said he wanted me to have a normal, happy childhood," Harry said lamely.

"Yes, putting you with the Dursleys certainly achieved that, didn't it?" Riddle noted sarcastically. "But don't you think it odd that Dumbledore would risk your life and that of every witch and wizard in the country, just so you could act like a normal child? I hardly think so. No, Harry, Dumbledore knew that you had to die for Lord Voldemort to be defeated, and that the power to vanquish him would be your own sacrifice."

Harry sat and stared at the boy in silence for a long while.

"Oh… bollocks," he said eventually.

"An accurate summarization of the situation," Riddle grinned. "However, I think I can do something to improve matters. While I might be just a splinter of his soul, I share Voldemort's deep fear of death. That said, living inside your head for nearly fifteen years has given me a rather different perspective on things, Harry. It is not death, as such, that I fear now; it's the eternal damnation that I would face should I be cast out into the heavens. In search of immortality, Voldemort has committed the greatest crime against the universe that is possible: the desecration of his own soul. As a sundered part of Voldemort's soul, I can only look forward to everlasting pain and despair, Harry, and I will not permit that to happen!"

"So, you're just trying to save yourself!" Harry accused him.

"But of course! Do you really think anyone would willingly accept such a fate? No, Harry, I will not meekly allow myself to be cast into eternal purgatory, and if it means arranging for my former self to go in my place, so be it!" Riddle snapped.

Harry stared at him in shock.

"Besides, as I said, being inside your head for so long and changed me somewhat," Riddle continued in a calmer voice. "Oh, don't get me wrong: I'm still the most evil person it could be your misfortune to meet, but sharing your life has left me open to… other possibilities, shall we say."

"What do you mean?" Harry demanded.

Riddle sighed deeply. "In many ways we are incredibly alike, you and I," he said. "We both lost our parents at an early age, and were abused as children. However, whilst I grew resentful and full of hate, you accepted your situation manfully and just tried to cope as best you could. The first time I accidentally used magic, I used it to cause crippling pain to another child at my orphanage. You, however, merely used magic to escape the clutches of that fat idiot of a cousin of yours. A significant difference, I think. The point is, however, I saw what I might have done differently."

"I find that hard to believe," Harry snorted.

"And I don't blame you," Riddle smirked. "But I'm not pretending that I would have ever been all sweetness and light. I have never admitted to anyone, but my father was a Muggle whom my mother ensnared using a Love Potion. Being the creation of such a warped union, I doubt I would have ever been able to truly feel love or happiness, even if my parents had stayed together and raised me. No, I'm merely saying that your way of life is no longer as abhorrent to me as it once was. It wasn't always that way, though. Do you know what anger and contempt I felt for you as you grew up? The meek way you accepted all that abuse from your filthy Muggle relatives, or the beatings at the hands of your cousin? I despised you and everything about you."

"Then what changed?" Harry asked.

"Quite simply, you did. Ever since you started attending Hogwarts, you have been, for want of a better description, a hero. You have shown bravery, persistence, ingenuity and strength. You've fought with my former self numerous times and survived, killed a basilisk, become a Triwizard Champion, defeated Death Eaters and generally been so heroic it made me sick. I might still have despised you, but I was forced to respect you, too," Riddle grudgingly admitted. "But it was not these acts of daring that made the most impression on me, oh no. I have never had a friend in my whole life, Harry, and through you I learnt what it was to have one. Good friends, people who would risk their lives for you and who you could trust with your darkest secrets. I had servants, not friends; people who obeyed me through fear or the promise of reward. Your friendship with Ron and Hermione left a deep impression on me."

Harry just stared at Riddle, not knowing what to say.

"I've never felt much attraction to the opposite sex, either," he continues with a roguish grin. "Oh, I had women when I was younger, but they left me cold. The fire in your veins when you kissed that blubbering Chang girl was quite a shock to me, I can tell you. Shame you picked such a wet blanket, but still. What I'm saying is that for the first time in my life I began to understand concepts that were previously alien to me: friendship, comfort, happiness, even desire and love. I'm envious about what you will experience the first time you lay with a woman, Harry. I felt empty and slightly disgusted after my first coupling. You, I suspect, will have a very different time of it, and that's something I want to experience, too."

"What exactly are you suggesting here?" Harry asked warily. "I don't get what you're proposing."

"What I'm proposing, Harry, is that you let our souls merge," Riddle said simply.

"Merge?" Harry gasped. "Your soul and mine? Are you insane?"

"No, I assure you I'm not," he replied firmly. "I've given this much thought and I'm certain this is the only way that both of us will survive. Think for a second. With me residing in your head, you are a Horcrux. Lord Voldemort cannot be killed unless I'm removed and, as it stands, that can't happen without you dying. Likewise, if Voldemort kills you then I'll be damned for all eternity."

"This is a trick, isn't it?" Harry growled. "Voldemort couldn't possess me at the Ministry so you're trying to get me to willingly let you into my head. No way, you arsehole! You're pure evil, and there's no way in hell I'll ever agree to anything you say."

"Harry, I am a tiny splinter of Voldemort's soul. If he couldn't possess you, then I have no chance at all," Riddle reasoned. "Your soul is whole, pure, and extremely powerful, while I'm just a fragment. If I merge with you, I will be absorbed wholly and very little of what I am now will remain."

"Well, isn't that just like being killed? Why would you want to do that?" Harry demanded.

"Because I would avoid the most terrible fate imaginable and would still live on in you, even if I would only be the tiniest part of your consciousness," Riddle reasoned. "Besides, I think this would be a good thing for you. Whilst the change would only be minor, I think you need a little darkness in your soul."

"How do you reckon that?" Harry asked, feeling more and more confused.

"Look back on the last year you've had," Riddle pointed out. "Look at where your overwhelming nobility and sense of honor has got you. If you'd have embraced your more Slytherin side, Harry, I expect Dolores Umbridge would be in Azkaban, the prophecy would have been retrieved without risk to you or your friends, and your godfather would still be alive."

Riddle's words hit Harry like a slap in the face. As painful as they were, however, he couldn't deny them.

"I'll even sweeten the deal," Riddle offered. "I said that Voldemort made multiple Horcruxes, and I can tell you what they are and where to find them. You'll have the chance to destroy them before the Dark Lord even knows they're gone. Think, Harry, I'm offering you the chance to defeat him, once and for all!"

"What would I have to do to merge our souls, exactly?" Harry asked warily.

"Hardly anything, I'd do all the work. You'd simply need to be willing to accept the merging," Riddle told him.

Harry sat and thought. He hadn't been surprised that part of Voldemort was inside him, not really. Now he considered it, it made a lot of sense. But to willingly allow his soul to merge with part of Voldemort's… it was ludicrous!

On the other hand, what would happen if he didn't? He'd have to die for there even to be a chance of Voldemort being defeated, and that would be assuming they could find all the other Horcruxes, too. The prophecy stated that he was the one that could vanquish Voldemort, so what chance did they have if he had to die to even make it possible to defeat the Dark Lord in the first place? Riddle was offering a solution to that puzzle and to hand him the locations of the Horcruxes on a plate. The only question was did he trust Riddle? But even if he didn't, what would he do otherwise? It looked like he had no choice, either way.

"Okay," Harry agreed in a defeated voice, "You've got yourself a deal."

"Excellent; a wise choice, Harry," Riddle beamed. "Now pay attention, I'm going to list the location of each of the Horcruxes and detail the protections built around them. As soon as you wake up, I want you to write this information down as it's too important to leave to chance. If I'm right, you will probably have no access to my memories once we merge, so this might be your one chance to do this."

"So, I won't instantly know all the stuff that you know, then?" Harry frowned.

"Possibly, but I don't believe it will work like that. My soul will be absorbed and cease to exist in its present form. While my darkness might have a very minor change on your attitude and morals, my consciousness will be scattered amongst yours," Riddle explained.

"Shame, knowing a load of incredibly powerful spells would have been useful," Harry said ruefully.

"Which raises a good point," Riddle acknowledged. "You will need to speak to Dumbledore as soon as possible. You'll need to make him aware that the Horcrux inside you has been dealt with, and there is no longer any need for you to sacrifice yourself. Assuming the old fool understands the implications of this, he should realize the rules of the game will have changed completely."

"How so?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore assumed that 'the power he knows not' mentioned in the prophecy would be your willingness to sacrifice yourself for your friends and for the good of the world. As there is no longer any pressing need to follow that path, he should comprehend that means you will need to defeat Voldemort by more conventional means. In short, he needs to start training you properly, Harry," Riddle stated flatly.

"But what good will that do?" Harry demanded. "I saw that duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort in the Ministry. I could never do things like that in a million years!"

"Nonsense," Riddle snapped. "The power is within you, I can feel it. You have as much magical potential as either Voldemort or Dumbledore; it's just a matter of education and training. Which brings me to my next point: it's time to start applying yourself fully. When you put all your effort into something, the results are normally spectacular. Look at what you've achieved in your Defense Against the Dark Arts training, or your record at Quidditch. Third year students aren't meant to be able to cast a Patronus Charm, you know, but you did it anyway. This is what Hermione has been trying to tell you for years. If you just apply yourself fully to your studies you could be an exceptional wizard, Harry! You just need to grow up and start taking your education seriously."

"I guess I haven't always tried my hardest," Harry admitted sadly.

"Indeed, and I do understand that the Dursleys ingrained that attitude into you, but you serious think you should do what they want? Of course not. You need to get your head together and start working hard. Don't let your friend Ron distract you, either. He's just afraid that he won't live up to his more studious brothers. In truth, if he applied himself he could be just as good as Bill or Percy. He just needs the confidence to try. Hopefully, once he sees your example, he'll knuckle down, too," Riddle advised.

"Yeah, that does make sense," Harry admitted thoughtfully.

"Of course it does and, trust me, you'll need your friends in the coming months. Even immensely powerful wizards such as Dumbledore and Voldemort surround themselves with like-minded people. You have a core of willing supporters formed already; use them! You don't have to do everything yourself, and this is their fight as much as it is yours," Riddle told him passionately.

"Okay, this is all good advice," Harry admitted with a sigh. "I promise I'll do what you suggest."

"Excellent, although I do have one more request of you, and one of a more personal nature," Riddle said, smiling mysteriously. "Please, as I'll soon be part of you, forget all about that drippy Chang girl. It turned my stomach to see you pining after that weak-willed, blubbering fool."

Harry could only grin. "Don't worry," Harry assured him. "I'm not interested in her anymore."

"Good," Riddle nodded in approval, before grinning slyly. "You do realize any of the three girls that accompanied you to the Ministry would make a far better match for you, don't you?"

"Err… really?" Harry said hesitantly.

"Indeed, and if I'm to be part of you when you start a relationship in earnest, I would much rather you direct your passions at Hermione, Luna or Ginny, rather than Cho Chang."

"Okay, I'll think about it," Harry promised reluctantly.

"Good man," Riddle said approvingly. "Now, I want you to listen carefully, as I'm about to tell you all I know regarding the Horcruxes. Pay attention."

Harry listened intently as Riddle began to detail the hiding places of the remaining Horcruxes…

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry awoke with a start.

For a moment, he was completely confused as to where he was, but seeing the light streaming through the small widow beside him made him comprehend he was still at Privet Drive. Slowly, he pulled the covers off of himself and swung out of bed. He stood and looked out the window.

The weather outside was grey and rather overcast, depressingly so for June, but to Harry, it seemed to be the most remarkable day he'd ever experienced in his life. There was something exhilarating and fresh in the air, and it made his heart soar.

Suddenly, the memory of his ethereal encounter of the previous night came back to him, and he turned and hurried over to his battered wardrobe onto which a cracked mirror was mounted. He peered at his reflection, and was oddly surprised that he looked no different to what he remembered. He certainly felt different. Then, carefully, he lifted the fringe of his hair.

It was practically gone! The ugly, red scar that had marked him all his life was now just a pale, zig-zag line on his forehead. He suddenly realized that the nearly ever-present pain that afflicted him was absent. It felt wonderful.

Harry went and sat down heavily on the end of his bed. It was all true. He now had a small piece of Voldemort's soul mixed with his own. Moreover, he was no longer a Horcrux and the connection he had with his hated foe was gone. He was truly his own person again.

That said, he could feel he wasn't the same person as he'd been before. He couldn't begin to explain what had changed, but he definitely felt different.

A blur of movement caught his eye and he looked around to see Hedwig fly in through the open window. No doubt she had been out hunting and had returned with the early morning light. Harry stood and hurried over to her.

"Hiya, girl. Did you have a good night?" he asked the bird affectionately while stroking her head in a way he knew she enjoyed. Hedwig made a contented warbling sound and closed her eyes in apparent bliss at her owner's touch. Harry smiled broadly, happy to have his faithful feathered friend back.

"Something really important happened while you were out," Harry told the bird. "I think my life has just changed completely."

Hedwig said nothing, but opened her golden eyes and regarded him calmly.

"Things are going to change now," he continued in a determined voice. "I have to get my arse in gear and start taking things seriously."

The owl tilted her head as she watched him.

"I'm going to start working hard, and become the wizard I need to be to defeat Voldemort," Harry said resolutely. "I've got to stop being a child and learn to become a man. I'll listen to my friends and take advice from my betters, but I'll also start taking responsibility for my actions. Hopefully, that will mean engaging my brain before acting."

Hedwig made a soft barking noise, like she was chuckling in amusement.

Harry smiled. "Laugh if you will, Hedwig, but I think that's been my biggest weakness up to this point. I need to start thinking and use whatever intelligence that I have. I can't always rely on Hermione to do my thinking for me, eh?"

A gentle hoot suggested Hedwig was in agreement with Harry's plan. Giving her one last loving stroke on her head, Harry walked over to the scratched and dilapidated desk that was crammed into the corner of the room, and began to hunt for some paper and a pen. Once he had found what he was looking for, he began to furiously scribble. Ten minutes later, he held up the sheet of paper and admired his work.

"Got you, Voldemort, you bastard," he muttered under his breath.

Carefully, he put the sheet of paper listing all of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes and their locations back down on the desk. In a little while, he would copy the information out again several times, just to be on the safe side. He would also need to send a message to Dumbledore, asking him to visit as soon as possible.

Smiling to himself, Harry leaned back and gazed around the small room. His smile faltered as he took in the state of the place. Books and empty crisp packets littered the floor, as did random items of dirty clothing. His trunk lay, unopened, at the end of his bed and several letters from his friends were tucked, untouched, on top of it. The place was, in short, a mess. Much like his life, Harry speculated.

Time to change things, he decided. The loss of Sirius was still like a sharp pain in his chest, but his grief wasn't as debilitating now as it had been. The best way to honor his godfather, Harry decided, was to send that snake-faced bastard and his bootlicking followers to hell. Too many good people had died already, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure no one else suffered that fate.

It was time to grow up.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

After washing and dressing, Harry made his way downstairs in search of some breakfast. First on the list of changes that he had to implement was starting to take care of himself better. That meant eating right and perhaps starting to take a little exercise.

Once he entered the kitchen he found that he had risen early enough that Uncle Vernon was still in the house. He was sat at the kitchen table, his folded newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten piece of toast in the other. Aunt Petunia stood at the sink, apparently trying to scrub the pattern off a plate she was washing, such was the vigor she put into the task. Harry stood in the doorway, watching them speculatively.

Vernon happened to glace up and noticed Harry for the first time. He glared at him with ill-disguised contempt.

"Finally gotten out of bed have you, you lazy good-for-nothing?" he growled.

Petunia looked around and eyed him like he was a piece of dirt. "Well, if you're up and about I have a list of chores for you to do. If you're staying in this house this summer you can earn your keep, no matter what your freakish friends think."

Harry just stared at them like he'd never seen them before. He remembered the contempt and hatred Tom had expressed for them, and Harry could see his point. The fact that he was hurting so badly was irrelevant to them. To the Dursleys, he was just an inconvenience; a hindrance that was forced upon them and that threatened to wreck their perfect, orderly lives. For a second, the sheer banality of their life-style made his stomach turn.

He looked Vernon squarely in the eyes, intending to demonstrate that he would no longer be intimidated by him. As he did so, however, he realized that he saw something else there, something he'd never noticed before.

Fear.

Harry quickly tore his eyes away from his uncle and shifted his gaze to Petunia. It was even more palpable with her; she was terrified of him.

For a second, Harry took a moment to process this information. What were they so afraid of? They knew he couldn't use magic without risking being expelled from Hogwarts. Perhaps it was just that he represented a threat to their good standing in the neighborhood? After all, nothing mattered more to a pair of small-minded, middle-class idiots like them more than their social status.

Instantly, he dismissed that thought. There was more to it than that. It was genuine fear he saw in their eyes, fear he now realized had been there for years, but he'd never recognized it for what it was. They were terrified of him and his magic, that was clear. Maybe Petunia was scared that she and Vernon would share her sister's fate if she were exposed to magic too long? Perhaps it was simply a fear of things that they didn't understand and would never hope to control themselves? Either way, it meant that he wasn't going to take any shit off them any longer.

"I just came down to get some breakfast," Harry said in a firm voice.

"Breakfast is over," she replied in a harsh voice. "If you can't be bothered…"

"What do you think will happen when I turn seventeen?" Harry asked suddenly, cutting off her expect tirade.

"Seventeen? What has that to do with anything?" Vernon demanded, his face beginning to turn red.

"It's when wizards like me come of age," Harry explained. "I suspect that it's a year earlier than you Muggles do because of the greater responsibility placed on our shoulders."

"Responsibility?" Vernon snorted. "You don't know the meaning of the word, boy!"

Harry reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wand, noting the look of apprehension that came onto his relatives faces at the sight of it.

"See my wand here? With this, I can perform acts of magic that would make most regular people think I was the second coming. I can Levitate items into the air, Transfigure them into something completely different, or even Banish them forever, and those are just some of the more basic spells. There are wizards out there who can kill with a wave of their wands, or bend the will of others to them so completely that a person would just become a puppet to them. Witches and wizards can fly on enchanted objects, breath underwater, even go back in time for short periods. Knowing that I have access to powers like that, do you still think that I'm not responsible? Be grateful that I am, too. Have I ever raised my wand against you, even once? I have I ever asked any of my friends to do so? No, for some strange reason I still think of you as my family, despite you two doing everything in your power to make believe that it isn't so."

"If you think we're impressed by a few parlor tricks…" Vernon began.

"Oh, grow up, Uncle Vernon!" Harry spat. "You've seen what magic can do. Well, let me tell you that you've only seen the tiniest part of what an average wizard is capable of. You remember Dudley getting that pig tail a few years ago? I could turn you both into pigs completely if I wanted, and sell you to the local butcher if I had half a mind. Or maybe change you into twigs and throw you onto a bonfire."

"HOW DARE YOU THREATEN US!" Vernon bellowed, climbing to his feet.

"Do you really think I'm afraid of you, Uncle?" he asked contemptuously. "Oh, I might risk expulsion from Hogwarts if I did use magic on you, but I'm sure I could convince the Ministry that it was in self-defense. After all, they didn't do anything to me after I blew up Marge like a balloon, did they?"

Vernon hesitated.

"But luckily for you, I don't have any desire to do anything to you. Like I said, you're the only family I've got left. I also appreciate that you probably weren't given a lot of choice other than to take me in, and you have at least given me a roof over my head, no matter how grudgingly. However, I suspect things are going to change soon and I might not be here much longer. This is what I'm proposing: just leave me alone to study my books and I'll stay out of your way, too. Let me eat regular meals with you and I'll see to it that you're financially compensated when I do leave, not just for this summer, but all the time I've been here."

"And how would you do that?" Petunia demanded. "Do you have money you haven't told us about?"

"Despite you telling me that my parents were drunken layabouts, we both know that's not true, don't we, Petunia? You know my father was well off, and you must have realized I would be named in their will, surely?"

"Then why didn't my good-for-nothing sister leave anything to me, then?" Petunia demanded.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you seemed to hate her so much?" Harry asked sarcastically. "Anyway, everything I've been left is in wizard currency. It's totally useless to you, unless I arrange for it to be converted into Muggle money. So, what do you say? All I'm asking for is a bit of peace and quiet, three meals a day and just to be treated without contempt. In exchange, I promise to be out of your hair as soon as possible and I'll make sure you receive compensation for all the time I've spent here."

"Where would you go?" Petunia asked suspiciously. "That mad Headmaster of yours said that you had to remain here for our protection, as well as yours."

"Protection that will be invalidated as soon as I hit seventeen, anyway," Harry shrugged. "Where I do go is of no concern to you, but I will say that if things go right the need for protection will be removed, anyway."

Harry watched as Petunia and Vernon looked at each questioningly. Somehow, he knew he'd won.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry stared at the broken shard of mirror mournfully. Once his aunt and uncle had agreed to his proposal, he'd enjoyed a frugal breakfast of fried egg on toast which, nevertheless, had seemed like a feast after the meager fare he'd been enjoying up to that point. Afterwards, he'd resolved to get down to work. First order of the day was to clean out his bedroom into something other than a pigsty. It had been when he begun to empty out his trunk that he came over this piece of mirror.

Closing his eyes, he let his fingers caress the smooth surface. A sharp prick in his thumb made him realize that he'd caught the ragged edge. He looked down and saw a globule of bright, red blood slowly dripping down the silvery surface. He welcomed the stinging pain as a reminder of his stupidity in not remembering the mirror in the first place. Instead, he'd blindly charged off to the Ministry and gotten Sirius killed.

 _Ah, but you didn't blindly rush off, did you?_ A voice seemed to say in his head. _You tried to contact Sirius via the Floo first. It wasn't your fault that blasted elf lied._

Harry blinked. It was true, he did try and verify where Sirius was, even if it had been at Hermione's urging. Even so, the mirror would have been a much better means of establishing that information.

 _Assuming Sirius even had the mirror on his person, that is. It's not like you used the wretched thing much before, was it?_

Try as he might, Harry found he couldn't refute this. Since Sirius gave him the mirror, he hadn't used it once, although that was mainly due to the risk of being overheard. It was hardly surprising that he'd forgotten he even had it, what with everything else going on.

Even so, the pain of Sirius's death still ate away at him. He gently put the shard of mirror down, and went over to his window and looked out. It was still only mid-morning and the sun seemed strangely reluctant to appear from behind the cover of the thick, grey clouds that hung in the sky. Something bad was happening out there, Harry knew, and war was coming.

Oddly, that thought almost seemed comforting to him. Voldemort had now shown himself and battle would soon be joined. That damnable prophecy had stated that he was the one who had to finish off the evil bastard, and at that exact moment he welcomed that idea. He had a major score to settle with the Dark Lord.

Another thought then occurred to him: had his parents known about the prophecy? Certainly, the fact that his mother had prepared so well in advance seemed to suggest that they had. That kind of ancient magic wasn't something you did on the spur of the moment. Did that mean that James and Lily Potter knew what he was tasked with in the future? Had their sacrifice been not only to save the life of their only son, but to save the country from the ravages of Voldemort? Sirius, too, may well have known what rested on Harry's shoulders. The thought was both comforting and utterly terrifying. He felt somewhat relieved to think that they hadn't given their lives solely for him, because he didn't think he was worth it. On the other hand, it conferred a terrible responsibility on him. One that up to this point he felt he hadn't done a very good job in living up to. He had to do better.

Clenching his fists in determination, he returned to his open trunk and began to retrieve his school books. Carefully, he picked up 'Quintessence: A Quest' and began to leaf through its pages. He was surprised to find that he remembered much of its contents. Feeling encouraged, he decided to make a start on his summer homework and Charms seemed as good a place to start as anywhere. He found some clean parchment and his quill, and sat himself down at his small, wonky desk to begin work.

Perhaps it was his new sense of resolve, but he soon found himself totally absorbed by his task. Very soon, he found himself leaping up out of his chair to find other books to cross-reference his work, and sheet after sheet of crisp parchment was soon filled with his rather spidery handwriting. While he'd always enjoyed Charms, and Professor Flitwick was undoubtedly one of his favorite teachers, Harry had never considered himself anything other than average in the subject. Hermione had always been the real expert, and he fully expected her to write her own book on it one day. It was with some confidence, however, Harry felt that this was one assignment that he'd be giving his friend a run for her money.

It was nearly two hours later when he finally put down his quill and began to try and massage some feeling back into his numb fingers. With a grin he picked up no less than five completed sheets of parchment and looked at them with pride. If this didn't get him an 'Outstanding' he'd eat his hat. Deciding not to get cocky, he began to read through the assignment again, checking for errors. He was about halfway through when a phrase he'd written caught his eye.

'… _in most cases. Alternatively, an Anti-Summoning Charm can be put in place to prevent the Summoning of objects. This charm can be made semi-permanent by placing runes on the object, notably the Laguz and Algiz runes, and then infusing them with the basic Repelling Charm to instill…'_

A cold, sinking feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach. He'd never studied Ancient Runes in his life, so how did he suddenly know the exact two runes that would be required to protect an object against Summoning?

With a feeling of mounting dread, it suddenly occurred to him that earlier that morning he hadn't only suspected what his aunt and uncle had been thinking, he'd actually known. Somehow, he'd looked into their eyes and read their thoughts.

Where had this new ability come from? Why did he suddenly know so much about subjects he'd never studied? How come he was now so full of purpose and drive? He'd realized that he had to knuckle down and do better, but equally he'd known that it would take time and dedication to achieve his goals. Unless…

Unless Tom had lied about how much of him would remain after he was absorbed into Harry's soul.

He stood abruptly and knocked his chair over. With trembling legs, he pushed himself away from the desk and barely managed to flop onto his bed before they gave out completely. With a cold sweat forming on his brow, Harry stared unseeingly at the ceiling. Panic was mounting inside him and it was all he could do to keep himself from crying out in despair. He'd just permitted the most wicked Dark Lord of modern times to merge with his soul, willingly.

The question was: how much of Tom Riddle was still there?

Unable to comprehend exactly what he'd just done to himself, Harry mercifully slid into unconsciousness.

Millions of miles away, in the constellation of Cassiopeia, a star briefly flared and then blinked out of existence.


	2. Chapter 2 - A Measured Truth

**Chapter 2 – A Measured Truth**

AN

Chapter 2 is the last chapter that survived from my original draft of this story, and as such follows the original plot of 'Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince' quite closely, to the point you will notice quite a few lines have been taken directly from the book (UK edition). This chapter is quite important for how it sets up the relationship between Harry and Dumbledore for the rest of the story. As you'll see, I'm being quite kind to the old bugger this time. Hell, I'm being kind to nearly every character I normally have a bit of a pop at. Apart from Draco, obviously.

Huge thanks to Arnel for beta reading. Arnel: for when it absolutely, positively must be checked overnight!

* * *

The next few days proved to very difficult ones for Harry. He found himself constantly second guessing himself and analysing every thought or action that he had. His blunt warning to his aunt and uncle that he was capably of Transfiguring them into pigs and selling them for bacon especially worried him, even though he firmly believed he would never have actually gone through with such an act in a million years. Even so, he was beginning to think that the whole conversation he'd had with them was somewhat out of character for him, even if the end results had turned out to be exactly what he'd desired.

Perhaps this was what Tom had meant when he'd told him that he had to start thinking more like a Slytherin. Vernon had agreed to his demands through a stick and carrot approach. The implied threat of what Harry might do once he came of age had been tempered by the promise of financial reward, and had worked perfectly. He had to admit, it was a more sensible approach then the raging anger with which he'd addressed his problems over the last year.

Feeling a little reassured, Harry had returned to his summer homework. As he'd first thought, he wasn't suddenly able to access the vast wealth of magical knowledge that Voldemort had possessed. Instead, information seemed to come to him in dribs and drabs, normally requiring some form of trigger to enable it. This could take the form of a sentence or even a single word written in his school text books, or sometimes even a hazy memory was enough. Even so, he found that with four days of solid work he was able to complete all his summer assignments, and to a much higher standard than he would have normally have done.

From here, he started to pour over his text books in detail. The Standard Book of Spells, Grades one to five, proved most enlightening. Spells that Harry would have sworn that he'd never attempted to cast in his life seemed familiar to him, and reading about other spells often triggered memories of other, more complex ones. After spending another three days re-reading every book on magic he possessed, his head seemed to be positively humming with new information. His fingers itched to have a wand in them so he could practice his new-found knowledge, although he knew better than to try anything while still at Privet Drive. It was time, he believed, to get out of this hated place.

He'd initially wanted to write immediately to Professor Dumbledore and demand that the old man present himself to him at once, but his new-found rationality urged him to show more caution. He soon realised that in his current mood a face-to-face meeting with the old wizard would probably end up resulting in something similar to his last one where he'd nearly destroyed half the headmaster's office. As tempted as he was to vent his rage at him, Harry knew he needed Dumbledore on his side. This also gave him cause for thought on how he should explain the sudden disappearance of the Horcrux within him. The idea that he'd merged his soul with the most evil wizard of modern times was unlikely to sit well with the distinguished old wizard.

In the end, Harry had decided to use exactly the same approach that Tom Riddle had used on him. He would admit that he'd permitted their souls to merge, but that as Tom's was just a tiny fragment, Harry had absorbed it without any harmful effects. He'd have to be careful in displaying his new found knowledge, however, and claim that his newly expanded repertoire of spells was a result of his improved work-ethic.

In the end, it had also proved to be unnecessary to request a meeting with Dumbledore. The venerable wizard had actually written to him several days previously informing him that he would be arriving at the end of the week to escort him to the Burrow for the rest of the holidays. Harry had actually intended to leave it a little longer than that, but as it fit in perfectly with his plan he made no effort to postpone his leaving.

In fact, the last week had been an incredibly busy one for Harry. Aside from all the studying he done, he'd also cleaned up the pigsty of a room that he'd been living in, and also started to look after himself a bit better. The Dursleys had been unhappy to see him making a regular appearance at the dinner table, but had grudgingly kept to their agreement. With Dudley still being ordered to lose weight, the meals Harry took could hardly be called a feast, but they were far better for him than his previous diet of crisps and Chocolate Frogs. He'd even taken up jogging in the mornings, and was pleased to discover that he wasn't a bad runner. No doubt all that practice fleeing from evil wizards and monsters had something to do with it, he surmised.

It was almost with disappointment that the day of his departure from Privet drive arrived, such was his sense of accomplishment that he felt at what he had achieved in such a short space of time. His books were all packed away, along with virtually all his other possessions. His trunk, which he'd taken the trouble to clear out, was ready and waiting upstairs in anticipation of his move to the Weasley household. First, however, he needed to have a good, long talk with his headmaster.

As the hands on the clock sitting on the mantelpiece both reached twelve, there was a quiet knock on the front door. Harry had already positioned himself in the front room of the house, awaiting the old man's arrival. Smiling at Dumbledore's precise timekeeping, Harry stood and hurried to the door. He opened it to reveal the man in question, wearing a long, billowing cloak and with a kindly expression on his face.

"Ah, good evening, Harry. It is most delightful to see you again, so soon," Dumbledore said by way of greeting.

"Good evening to you, too, sir. Please do come in," Harry responded politely.

"Thank you, my dear boy. I must say that…" Dumbledore began before he was interrupted by a gruff shout coming from half-way up the staircase.

"Who on earth is it calling at this time of night?" Vernon's voice called out irritably.

"Don't worry about it, Uncle, it's for me," Harry replied calmly. "I'm being collected. I'll be leaving in a short while and you probably won't see me again."

"That's not one of _your type_ , is it?" Vernon snarled. "I won't have…"

"Uncle, go back to bed," Harry said firmly. "When you get up in the morning, I'll be gone and no one will have even seen me leave. I'll arrange to send you the money I promised as soon as I get to the bank."

"Yes, well…" Vernon muttered. "Just don't wake everyone up when you go, that's all."

And with that scant farewell, Vernon headed back upstairs to bed.

"Hmm, I see your uncle's attitude has not improved much," Dumbledore noted. "Perhaps I should have a little chat with him before we depart."

"It wouldn't do any good," Harry disagreed. "In a way, I don't really blame him for his hostility, either. Tell me, did you actually ever ask my aunt and uncle if they were okay with looking after me, or did you just drop me on their doorstep?"

"They are your family, Harry. Even if they were reluctant to take you in, it was their responsibility as your last surviving relatives," the old man said firmly.

"Maybe, and maybe not. You could have at least asked them," Harry countered. "Besides, they knew I was magical from the start and that's not an easy thing for Muggles like them to cope with, is it? Especially when the reason I was put with them in the first place was because my parents were killed by an evil wizard. Not much of an incentive for them, was it?"

"Even so, they could have treated you better," Dumbledore pointed out.

"I guess I can't argue with that. Mind you, you could have checked up on me occasionally. Arranging for a half-mad old Squib to keep an eye on the place wasn't much of plan, was it? You do know Mrs Figg thinks her cats talk back to her, don't you?" Harry said sharply.

"I must concede that point," Dumbledore admitted reluctantly. "Poor Arabella had a hard time of it during the last war, and I am afraid the experience unsettled her more than I realised. I admit I stayed away because I knew that my presence generally upset the Dursleys, which perhaps should have given me a clue as how they would treat you. I fear it is another item on an increasingly long list of errors I have made concerning you, Harry, and I must once again beg your forgiveness."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it, sir," Harry replied resolutely. "We need to talk. Can I suggest we go up to my bedroom? You can cast a Silencing Spell on the room so we're not overheard."

"Harry, the night is passing and we have places we must go…" Dumbledore began.

"Headmaster, I guarantee you need to hear what I have to say," Harry interrupted. "Trust me, this is something that won't wait."

"Very well, my boy, you've managed to pique my curiosity. Please, lead on," Dumbledore said with a cheerful smile.

Harry led the old wizard up the stairs to his bedroom. He then firmly closed the door behind them and gestured for Dumbledore to take a seat on the only chair in the room, which was situated in front of his damaged desk. Harry then sat himself down on his bed.

"Well, Harry, what is it that you so urgently need to discuss with me?" Dumbledore asked in a polite voice after the venerable wizard had cast the requested charms to ensure their privacy.

Harry had given this moment a lot of thought. He had decided that a dramatic gesture would be the best way to convince his headmaster that things had completely changed. To achieve this, he pulled out a piece of A4 paper from his pocket and handed it to the old man.

At first, Dumbledore regarded the creased piece of paper with indulgent amusement, before the smile gradually slid off his face. It was replaced by a look of complete and utter shock, an expression Harry had never seen on the old man's features before.

"Harry, how did you come by this information?" Dumbledore demanded in a shaky voice.

"Would you believe it was all inside my head?" Harry replied with smug amusement.

Dumbledore's expression clouded and his face became stern. "This is a matter of the utmost seriousness, my boy, and I need you to give me a straight answer," he said in a firm voice.

"Were you aware that Horcruxes are sentient, sir?" Harry asked, his voice as cold as ice.

A genuine look of fear came into Dumbledore's eyes and he began to reach into his robes, presumably for his wand. As he did so Harry noticed the man's hand was blackened and shrivelled, as if the flesh had been burnt away.

"Put your wand away, sir, I haven't been possessed by Voldemort," Harry said sharply.

"Then how, may I ask, do you appear to know of the existence of his Horcruxes, and manage to write down the exact location of each one?" Dumbledore demanded, waving the piece of paper in Harry's direction.

"Oh, not all of the Horcruxes Voldemort created are listed there," Harry replied casually. "I didn't bother to mention the diary, for instance, as it has already been destroyed. Neither did I mention the Horcrux that was in my scar."

Dumbledore flinched as if he had been physically struck. To drive home his point, Harry lifted his fringe to display his faded scar.

"How…" Dumbledore gasped.

"As I said; Horcruxes are sentient. The one inside me, once it heard the prophecy in full, began to realise its prospects didn't look too good. For Voldemort to be killed, I would have had to die, and it would have been destroyed along with me. Likewise, if Voldemort managed to kill me, it would perish, too. It quickly realised that its only chance of survival would be to merge with my soul. To aid my, and now his, chances of survival, he gave me this information about the Horcruxes. It seemed like a good trade-off to me," Harry explained.

"A good trade-off?" Dumbledore repeated in horror. "You allowed your soul to be merged with that of the most foul, evil being to walk this planet in centuries and you call that a good trade-off? Harry, do you realise what you have done?"

"Evidently better than you do, sir," he growled. "Remember, that piece of Voldemort's soul inside me was just a tiny splinter. It was miniscule compared to my own soul. I've absorbed it completely, and it's made very little difference to me. Oh, I guess I'm a bit more cautious and rather less trusting than I was before. Of course, that might just be a result of discovering that the man I trusted and respected more than anyone else in the world was preparing to sacrifice me so Voldemort could be defeated."

Dumbledore's anger instantly vanished and his head drooped. He suddenly looked his age. His eyes were misty as he looked imploringly at Harry.

"I never wanted it to be that way, my boy," the old wizard explained in a broken voice. "For years, I have sought out ways to remove that accursed soul fragment from you, but I found nothing. 'Neither can live while the other survives' the prophecy said, and it seemed clear to me that if the Horcrux within you could only be destroyed by your death, then the power you had to vanquish Voldemort would be your own willingness to die for your friends. There did not seem to be any other way."

"When were you planning on telling me?" Harry demanded harshly.

"At the last possible moment. It seemed the kindest thing to do," Dumbledore said sadly.

Harry stood abruptly and walked over to the window. The streetlights outside cast an orangey glow about the darkened drive. Keeping his eyes firmly pointed into the blackness, Harry took a deep breath.

"I wanted to hate you, you know," Harry began softly, his temper rigidly in check. "I wanted to rage and scream at you. You've kept secrets hidden from me all my life. First, Sirius died because you didn't tell me about the prophecy, and then I learn that I was going to have to throw myself in front of Voldemort's wand if there was any chance of him being defeated. Tell me, sir, who made you god? Who said that it was your choice what information to give out, and to decide who had to die?"

The old wizard remained silent and made no effort to defend his actions.

"I was quite prepared to take my wand and try to curse you," Harry continued.

"But I see that you have made no such attempt," Dumbledore noted carefully. "In truth, Harry, I would not blame you if you did, but, tell me; why are you so calm about this?"

"Simple, I started asking myself what else you could have done. I assumed you didn't know of any way to safely remove the Horcrux, and you confirmed that a moment ago. Try as I might, in those circumstances I couldn't think of another course of action you could have taken. Oh, and you were right, by the way; I would have died to try and save my friends," Harry confirmed sadly.

"That is the one thing I was always sure about," Dumbledore confirmed despondently. "You are a remarkably selfless boy, Harry, and you have proved you would risk your life for others many times."

Harry turned and looked the old wizard in the eyes. "So, how do we move forward from this?" he demanded. "Now you know that my death isn't a requirement to defeat Voldemort, what are you going to do?"

"This invaluable list seems as good a place to start as anywhere," Dumbledore noted. "I can vouch for its accuracy, too, as I have already dealt with Marvolo Gaunt's ring. It was in the exact location described on this paper."

A light went on in Harry's head. "Your hand…" he began.

"Yes, I regret that I foolishly fell prey to one of the curses that Tom placed on the ring," he confirmed, gazing at his withered hand.

"How serious is it?" Harry demanded in an uncompromising voice. Dumbledore looked up at him sharply, before sighing.

"The wound is fatal. I have a year at most, I suspect," he confirmed.

Harry nodded, satisfied that Dumbledore, for once, had told him the truth. The fact that the old man had so little time left to live shocked deeply, but now was not the moment to dwell on it.

"Then we don't have any time to waste," Harry said firmly. "We need to deal all the Horcruxes on the list, and I don't think that will be easy. The soul splinter was only guessing that Voldemort's pet snake had been turned into a Horcrux, for instance."

"No, I agree with that assessment. I came to the same conclusion, myself," Dumbledore interrupted.

"That's good," Harry nodded, "but the Horcruxes are only part of it. It will still have to be me that has to take down Voldemort, and if I'm going to do that I need training. By that I don't just mean sitting in a classroom studying for my NEWT exams, I mean proper one-on-one training. I'd want you to start teaching me everything you can think of that will help me in a duel with Voldemort. We might need to bring some others in, too. I was thinking Professor Moody would be a big help in preparing me."

"You are quite right, my boy. We need to start giving you some real help. I must confess that it is a bitter blow to me to realise that I could have been personally training you all this time and it might have made a real difference. Now, I have but a year to teach you all that I can. I agree that Alastor Moody will be a good choice to be involved, too. I shall contact him as soon as possible," Dumbledore confirmed.

"Excellent. I think I might have to change my timetable a bit, when we get back to Hogwarts. Divination and History of Magic aren't going to help me much, are they? I was thinking of dropping Herbology, too, to free up more time," Harry pondered.

"Indeed, I think concentrating on Defence, Transfiguration and Charms would be a very wise move, although I would suggest you keep up your Potions studies. There are many useful things to be learnt in that field, Harry."

"If Professor Snape lets me back into his class, that is," Harry snorted.

"Ah, I think there might be some changes afoot in that department," Dumbledore smiled mysteriously, causing Harry to frown. More secrets?

"What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked in cool tone. "Is Professor Snape not returning to Hogwarts next term?"

"Oh, no. Professor Snape will still be in attendance, but I rather hope that it will be in a different capacity than he is presently engaged in. In fact, I was rather hoping you could help with that, Harry," Dumbledore smiled.

"Please explain," Harry said firmly, irritated by the old wizard's habit of providing as little information as possible. The look on Dumbledore's face seemed to suggest that he had picked up on Harry's annoyance.

"Before taking you to the Burrow, I was planning on making a side-trip to visit an old colleague of mine, one Horace Slughorn. Horace has been retired for some time, but I am hoping to persuade him to return to teaching to fill a gap in our staff roster that current exists. While Horace is a fine fellow, he does rather have a liking for mentoring famous or influential pupils. I suspect the idea of teaching you would be a great incentive for him to return," Dumbledore explained cheerfully.

"So, this Slughorn bloke teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts, does he?" Harry pressed, thinking that this was the only reaching position not filled.

"Ah, no. Horace is in fact a highly skilled Potions Master," the Headmaster replied.

Harry frowned. Why would Dumbledore need another Potions Master unless…

"Oh, bloody hell, no!" Harry exclaimed. "No way in hell!"

"I'm sorry?" Dumbledore said in alarm, clearly surprised by Harry's sudden outburst.

"You want to give Snape the Defence position, don't you?" Harry nearly spat. "There's no way that I'm going to do anything to help you do that."

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, I know that you and Professor Snape have never been on good terms, but…"

"This isn't about me!" Harry interrupted. "Don't you understand? Voldemort is back and now everybody is in danger. The Defence classes have never been more important and that means you have to have the most competent teacher in that position that you can find."

"I assure you, no one knows more about the Dark Arts then Severus Snape," Dumbledore responded, a touch of irritation in his voice.

"Bully for him!" Harry snorted angrily. "Only that wasn't my point. I said we needed a 'competent teacher.' That is the last thing that Snape is. He can't teach for toffee! He might know how to make every potion there is, or even know how to defeat every Dark curse out there, but that's useless unless he can impart that knowledge onto others, and he can't! He'll just do what he always does; write a few lines on a blackboard, sneer at anyone who doesn't instantly understand what he means, and be blatantly bias in favour of his Slytherins. War is coming, sir, and if you put Severus Snape in charge of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, you will be putting the life of every boy and girl in that class at risk."

"Harry, you are exaggerating," Dumbledore began again.

"No, I'm not!" Harry cut him off. "Have you ever watched Snape teach a class? It's pathetic! He never gives any help or support, he never explains anything properly, and he's just bloody mean to everyone. He clearly hates all children, not just me, so why he ever became a teacher is beyond me!"

Dumbledore sighed. "That was my doing, I'm afraid. Severus needed a job after Voldemort was defeated the first time, and I wanted to keep him close at hand as I knew I would need his talents again one day. While I know he can be unpopular, I would ask you to reconsider, Harry. Professor Snape has a veritable goldmine of information he can dispense regarding the Dark Arts, and I promise to talk to him about his teaching methods. Besides, we do need Horace at Hogwarts. He has vital information that will aid us to defeat Voldemort."

"What information?" Harry demanded, not now prepared to take anything Dumbledore said at face value.

"He was one of Tom Riddle's professors and it is my belief that…" Dumbledore began, but then his voice trailed off. He stared at the A4 piece of paper in his hand. "Now I come to think about it, maybe the information Horace possesses isn't of such importance, after all. Not now."

"Did he know about the Horcruxes?" Harry asked in surprise.

"I believe so," Dumbledore confirmed. "It is my understanding that Horace knew the exact number of the foul things that Voldemort created, but as he was inadvertently of help to Riddle in their making, his great shame led him to deny everything. I have to admit, Harry, that I had hoped to get Horace to confess what he knew, if only for his own sake. The poor man has carried around a great burden of guilt for many years, and finally admitting what he had done would help alleviate that. Horace wasn't the only person to be fooled by Tom, after all."

Harry thought for a moment. "If you want my help trying to get this Slughorn bloke to talk, then fair enough. But I stand by what I said; I won't do anything that will result in Professor Snape getting the Defence job. You need to get someone decent in that role, sir, an Auror, or something. I promise, this isn't just me saying this just because I don't like Snape. You can ask anyone who has had a Potions class with him. Anyone other than a Slytherin, of course."

"I can see your mind is made up, Harry," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Let me give the whole matter more thought. I might still ask you to come and visit Horace with me at some point, anyway. Your mother was one of his favourite pupils and I'm sure he could tell you many interesting tales about her."

"Then I'd very much like to meet him, sir," Harry nodded in agreement.

"Excellent. Now, before we head to the Burrow, we have one more task that needs to be taken care of. Around a week ago, Sirius's will was discovered and it appears that he left you everything he owned."

"Oh, right," Harry replied, unable to think of anything to say. Although the pain of his godfather's loss had dulled somewhat, the mention of his name brought it surging back.

"In addition to adding a reasonable amount of gold to your vault at Gringotts, Sirius also left you 12 Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore explained. "This, however, might prove problematical."

"In what way?" Harry asked, not particularly caring for the idea of inheriting that gloomy old building.

"The Black family was most traditional in outlook, and it is quite possible that they would not want their property to fall into the hands of anyone not of pure blood. While Sirius made it quite clear he wanted you to inherit the house, it is possible that there are enchantments or spells to prevent you, a half-blood, from doing so. We have taken the liberty of vacating the building until ownership can be established. Our fear is that is you cannot have the place, ownership will pass to the next eldest of Sirius's relatives, which would be his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange," the old wizard told him.

"The bitch that killed him? Sirius would turn in his grave!" Harry spat.

"Quite. There is, fortunately, a simple test to establish ownership. In addition to inheriting the house, you have also inherited Kreacher, the Black's house-elf. If Kreacher is prepared to accept orders from you, then it proves you are indeed the owner of Grimmauld Place. If I may, I would like to summon him here so we can test that theory," Dumbledore said.

Harry gritted his teeth. He'd rather face one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts then see that horrid little vermin, but Dumbledore was right: the house was too useful to allow it to fall into the hands of Bellatrix. Grimly he nodded his approval, and Dumbledore flicked his wand. A loud crack signalled the arrival of the small elf, who immediately started wringing his hands and mumbling to himself.

"Kreacher won't obey the filthy Potter brat. Kreacher wants to belong to Miss Bellatrix, he does! Kreacher won't, won't, won't…"

"Kreacher, shut up!" Harry snapped, his temper rising at the sight of the miserable traitor who had helped lead him into the trap at the Department of Mysteries.

The elf was immediately silent, although he looked like he was choking with the effort of trying to speak.

"I rather think that clears up the matter," Dumbledore noted cheerful, but Harry wasn't finished.

"You know that you have to take orders from me now, don't you?" he asked the elf in a cold voice.

Kreacher reluctantly nodded.

"As I understand it, I could order you to throw yourself off a tall building, or to slit your own wrists. You understand that, don't you?" he continued with barely supressed anger in his voice.

Kreacher nodded again, but looked fearful this time.

"Well, you can relax for the moment; I'm not going to order you to do anything like that," Harry admitted grimly, "providing you do exactly what I tell you to do. You're not to do anything that would hurt me or any of my friends, in any way, whatsoever. You will do nothing that will aid Voldemort or any of his supporters, at all. Got that? From this point onwards, you will be totally loyal to me and to the members of the Order of the Phoenix. Is that clear, and, yes, you can speak to confirm that?"

"Kreacher understands," the elf croaked, although he looked far from happy.

"Good, because this is your final warning. If you do anything that results in anyone I care about getting hurt, I will make sure it's the last thing you ever do," Harry snapped. "Now, go back to Grimmauld Place and start clearing it up. Do a proper job this time."

Kreacher nodded curtly, and vanished from sight.

"Very well done, Harry," Dumbledore congratulated him. "I suspect Kreacher will not dare to try any shenanigans from this point on. I would recommend that you favour him with the occasional kindness, however. Sirius was rather unpleasant to him, and I suspect that was one of the reasons Kreacher was willing to betray him."

"Oh, I won't treat him badly," Harry confirmed gruffly. "Can you imagine what Hermione would say if I did?"

"Quite right. Miss Granger would be very disapproving, I believe. I would also remind you that Buckbeak is still in the house…" Dumbledore started.

"Can he go back to Hogwarts now?" Harry interrupted. "A cramped room isn't the best place for a Hippogriff."

"I will make the necessary arrangements with Hagrid. Well, I think we had better make our way to the Burrow. The hour is late and the chances of finding anyone still awake in the Weasley household lessen by the moment. Come, Harry, grab your trunk and we will be off," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

Harry needed no encouragement. He firstly hurried over and opened the window, so Hedwig could fly to the Burrow herself, before grabbing her cage and his trunk. Between the two of them, they managed to manoeuvre the items downstairs without making any noise, and were soon outside.

"Now, Harry, I don't believe you have ever Apparated before, have you?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, sir," Harry admitted.

"Take my arm and hold on tight," Dumbledore advised him. "This can be rather unpleasant the first time you try it."

It was indeed an extremely unpleasant experience, but Harry did manage to avoid throwing up once it stopped. A fleeting memory of doing this before came to his mind, but he realised this memory was one of Tom's. Once he gained his wits, he looked around him and found himself in a dark country lane, with the Burrow silhouetted in the pale moonlight ahead of him.

"I must admit, I had intended to have a little chat with you before we parted, but in the circumstances I think that talk can wait," Dumbledore said looking at Harry gravely. "You have already managed to completely alter my plans this night, and I have much to think about. I will offer one piece of advice before I go, however. The press are in a frenzy concerning the recent events at the Ministry, and are already referring to you as the 'Chosen One'. While this title is surprisingly apt, it is little more than guesswork on their part. Guard the contents of the prophecy closely, Harry, and share it with no one, other than perhaps your friends Ron and Hermione. They, at least, deserve to know what they are up against."

Harry nodded curtly, but privately thought more people should be told than just his two best friends. The prophecy put lives at risk, and others should at least know why they were in danger.

"Good, although I trust that you will use your best judgement in that regard. Come, let us see who is still awake at this hour," Dumbledore announced cheerfully before striding towards the back door of the Burrow. He knocked three times before Harry heard Mrs Weasley's nervous voice demand to know who was there.

"It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry," he called.

The door opened and Mrs Weasley hurried out, wearing an old green dressing-gown.

"Albus, Harry! You gave me a fright! I thought we weren't to expect you until morning," Molly exclaimed.

"The events of the evening unfolded in a rather unsuspecting way," Dumbledore explained, ushering Harry into the kitchen. "Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"

Harry looked over and was surprised to see the young witch sitting at the kitchen table clutching a large mug in her hands. To Harry's eyes, Tonks didn't look at all well. Her normally colourful hair was brown and lank, while her normally cheerful expression was notably absent.

"Hello, Professor," she said with a rather forced smile. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Hi, Tonks. Is everything alright?" he asked.

"They could be better," she admitted.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked in concern.

"Not really, Harry, unless you're skilled at talking sense into stubborn idiots," she replied. "I'd better be off, anyway. Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly."

"I must go, too," Dumbledore announced. "Much has happened this evening and I must consider the implication of it all. Harry, I promise to be in contact soon. We have much left to discuss."

"We do indeed, Professor," he agreed. "I'll wait to hear from you."

"I'll visit again in a couple days, at most," he promised. "Molly, your servant."

A moment later it was just him and Molly Weasley left standing in the kitchen. She turned to regard him closely.

"Well, I'm pleased to see you look to be in good health, Harry. I was so worried about you being stuck over there with those Muggle relatives of yours. I can't believe how tall you're getting! Just like Ron, I'd swear the pair of you had Stretching Jinxes cast on you. Are you hungry, Harry?"

"Yes, I must admit I am a bit peckish, Mrs Weasley," Harry admitted with smile.

"Sit yourself down at the table and I'll rustle something up for you," she smiled.

Harry took a seat at the old, battered wooden table. Unbidden, a wide grin crept onto his face as he looked around the cluttered kitchen. Despite his initial reluctance to abandon his studies back at Privet Drive, he couldn't suppress the feeling of happiness he felt at being back in the Burrow. This place had always felt more like a true home to him than the Dursley's house ever had.

His thoughts were interrupted by a squashed face, ginger cat jumping into his lap and wiggling itself into a comfortable position. Harry's fingers involuntarily began to stroke its fur and it began to emit a loud purring noise.

"Is Hermione here already?" he asked, massaging the cat's neck in such a way that it sent Crookshanks into ecstasy.

"Oh, yes, she arrived the day before yesterday," Mrs Weasley confirmed. "Everyone is tucked up in bed, of course. We really didn't expect you until the morning. Here you go."

Mrs Weasley Levitated a large, metal pot towards him, and pushed a bowl in front of him just in time to catch a generous helping of thick onion soup into it as the pan tipped over, seemingly of its own volition. She then added several thick slices of home baked bread to the side of his bowl. Harry sniffed the delicious aroma coming from the soup and felt his stomach rumble. He grabbed a spoon and began to dig in.

He grinned as he savoured the rich, sharp taste of the soup. Mrs Weasley was definitely the greatest cook he knew. This was a million times better than that foul, watery gruel they served him back at the orphanage. He dipped a slice of bread into the soup and ate it with an expression of joy on his face.

"You're here much earlier than Albus said you would be. Didn't you visit Horace Slughorn, in the end?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"No, Professor Dumbledore and I had a bit of a disagreement on that point," Harry replied between mouthfuls. "While I don't know anything about this Slughorn bloke, I most definitely didn't like the idea of Professor Snape taking over the Defence Against the Dark Arts role."

"Yes, well, I'm not sure I can blame you for that," she replied doubtfully. "I know Albus trusts him implicitly, but he can be a rather prickly character, can't he? Percy is the only one of my boys who's ever really liked him."

"That's a surprise," Harry muttered under his breath.

"What was that, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"Just agreeing with you, that's all," he said quickly.

"Well, never mind that, I have some good news to tell you about," Mrs Weasley beamed. "I don't know if Ron mentioned it in any of his letters, but Arthur has been promoted!"

"Really?" Harry said with some surprise. As much as he liked Mr Weasley, he'd always got the impression that the man was considered something of a joke within the Ministry.

"Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has created several new offices in response to the present situation, and Arthur's heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit defensive Spells and Protective Objects. It's a big job and he's got ten people reporting to him now."

"Big name, too," Harry smirked. "Still, that's great news, Mrs Weasley. Mr Weasley definitely deserves it."

"Oh, you sweet boy," Mrs Weasley smiled, and added a few extra slices of bread to the side of his bowl.

As Harry continued to eat, he pondered the significance of Mr Weasley's promotion. He didn't doubt that Arthur would be well suited to the job, but having a staff of ten people was definitely a step up in the world. Was it just a coincidence that someone so close to Harry had just been handed a plum new job? He probably wouldn't have even thought about it before, but his new, more cynical world-view made Harry suspicious.

"So, what's the new Minister like?" Harry asked casually.

"He's a great improvement on Cornelius Fudge, I must say. He used to be Head Auror, and Tonks speaks quite highly of him. I'm sure he'll be more effective at standing up to You-Know-Who, anyway," Mrs Weasley said happily.

Harry nodded and returned to his soup. Silently, he wondered if the new Minister might be making contact with him soon. Fudge had been keen to use Harry's fame for his own ends, and he doubted Scrimgeour would be any different. Still, maybe it would be more advantageous to play the game a little, this time. Dumbledore's alienation of Fudge had only created problems, and if Scrimgeour turned out to be a man he could work with, Harry was quite prepared to offer his support to him, providing he got something in return. Arthur's promotion hinted that might be something the new Minister was amenable to.

A sudden shout of happiness roused Harry from his thoughts.

"Arthur's on his way home," Mrs Weasley declared as she examined a large clock that was perched precariously on a pile of newly-laundered sheets. The clock was a remarkable piece of magic, Harry had to admit, even if he would have been uncomfortable with the idea of someone knowing where he was and what he was doing every second of the day.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the back door and Mrs Weasley scrambled to answer it.

As was the Ministry's recommended guidelines these days, Arthur and Molly exchanged personal information to identify each other before the door was opened. Harry successfully managed to stifle a snigger when he learned that Arthur's pet name for his wife was 'Mollywobbles'. Besides, he really didn't want to think about how she earned that nickname.

The second Arthur laid his eyes on Harry, he broke into a wide smile. "Harry! We didn't expect you until the morning."

"Yeah, in the end the headmaster decided we wouldn't be making the detour he'd planned," Harry explained. "It's good to see you again, sir. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way."

"Pah, what's with all this 'sir' nonsense? You've known us long enough to call us by our given names; Arthur and Molly," the older man said dismissively, "and thank you, although I'm beginning to think that this new job is a curse, not a blessing. I'm worked off my feet at the moment."

Arthur broke into a long description of the various suspect items that he and his team had been forced to confiscate. Harry tried to concentrate, but his full stomach and the late hour made it difficult. He tried to suppress a yawn, but failed.

"It's time you were tucked up in bed," Molly decided. "I've got Fred and George's room all ready for you. They're sleeping in a little flat over their new shop at the moment. Ever so busy, they are. Come along, dear, your trunk's already up there."

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley. Good night, Mr Weasley, perhaps we'll have a chance to chat tomorrow?" Harry asked.

"I hope so, Harry. Good night," the man replied with a kind smile.

With Crookshanks happily trotting alongside, they made their way up the stairs to the room that Harry had been allocated on the second floor. Despite the room's cluttered appearance, it looked a lot more comfortable than his room back at Privet Drive. He quickly changed for bed, and was asleep nearly before his head hit the pillow.


	3. Chapter 3 - Sins of the Flesh

**Chapter 3 – Sins of the Flesh **

I'm rather fond of this chapter. Not only does it have some nice banter between the gang, but that's balanced out by the darker ending. As you'll see, I haven't been kind to Slughorn in this story. Still, what do you expect from a noticeably single, male teacher at a British private bordering school? I'm still lifting direct quotes from HBP at this stage, too, I should mention, but I'm sure all you hard-core HP fans will spot those easily.

Huge thanks, as always, to Arnel for weeding out my (many) errors.

* * *

A loud noise awoke Harry from his slumber.

"We didn't know you were here already!" yelled an excited voice and something hit Harry hard on the top of his head. Half awake and startled by the sharp blow, he blindly swung his fist.

"Ow!"

"Serves you right, Ron! Why did you hit him when he was asleep?" a female voice exclaimed reproachfully.

Harry groped for his glasses and eventually found them. Shoving them on, he saw Ron standing by the side of his bed rubbing his jaw with a pained expression on his face, and Hermione standing nearby with her arm's folded, glaring at Ron.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron moaned, "that really hurt!"

"What, and getting smacked on the top of the head didn't?" Harry griped. "You could have just given me a shake to wake me up, you know."

"Yeah, maybe," Ron admitted grudgingly before a smile came onto his face. "Anyway, it's great to have you here so early. We thought it would be weeks before Dumbledore let you come."

"Are you alright? How did the Dursleys treat you?" Hermione asked eyeing him intently.

"A bit better than normal," Harry admitted, "although I did have to resort to a combination of threats and bribery to achieve it. Still, with a bit of luck I won't have to go back there again."

Ron and Hermione shared a doubtful look before Ron turned back to him with an excited gleam in his eyes.

"So, we heard you and Dumbledore went off on some adventure. What happened? Tell us all about it!"

"Actually, nothing happened. The little side-trip the Headmaster had planned for me got postponed, mainly on account that I refused to do anything that would mean that Snape got to take over the role of Defence teacher," Harry replied sourly.

"What?" Ron and Hermione exclaimed simultaneously.

"Yeah, Dumbledore wanted me to use my fame to lure some bloke called Slughorn back to Hogwarts so he could take over the Potions position. While I would be perfectly happy with us getting a new Potions teacher, I'm damned if that will be at the expense of Snape getting his greasy mitts on the Defence job at a time when it's more important than ever. That git wouldn't teach anyone a single useful thing, apart from his precious Slytherins, of course," Harry growled.

"I guess if he does end up getting the job we can always re-start Dumbledore's Army again," Hermione reasoned.

"It would be a bit ironic if we had to do that, bearing in mind that it would be Dumbledore who gave Snape the job," Ron pointed out.

"We could always change the name, I suppose," Hermione suggested doubtfully. "Besides, Snape couldn't be any worse than Umbridge, could he?"

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," said a voice from the doorway. Ginny slouched into the room, looking irritable. "Hi, Harry."

Harry looked up at the sound of her voice. For a moment he could only stare at her in confusion. Her appearance shocked him to the core, although he couldn't begin to say why. She looked no different from when he'd last seen her back at King's Cross just a few weeks ago, but for some reason he just couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

Why had he never noticed just how beautiful she'd become? The shy little girl he'd known was blossoming into a stunning young woman, and her body was starting to develop in ways that excited him greatly. He felt a sudden desire to touch her and find out if her creamy skin was as soft as it looked.

Ginny unceremoniously flumped down onto the end of his bed and looked at him with a grin. As their eyes met, the smile slowly slipped from her face, and was replaced with an expression of surprise.

Just as he had done with the Dursleys, Harry found that just by looking into her eyes he could tell what she was thinking. What he discovered was that Hermione had been wrong… very wrong. Ginny hadn't given up on him; she'd just despaired that he would ever return her feelings. Instead, she'd vowed to be the best friend she could be to him and help him in whatever way she could. Her selfless loyalty touched his heart and brought a lump to his throat.

Her feelings for him hadn't changed, he realised. He could practically feel her burning passion for him and the near-overwhelming love that she held in her heart. He felt almost physically sick that he'd never shown her the slightest affection or returned her feelings in anyway. He was a fool who was too blind to see what was right there in front of him.

Well, that was going to change, he decided. Right there and then, he made a decision: Ginny Weasley would be his.

"Ahem, Harry? Are you alright?" he heard Hermione ask in a concerned voice.

"What, Hermione?" he demanded.

"Sorry, you just seemed a bit… shot away there for a second," Hermione replied, looking at him and Ginny curiously. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry replied with a smile. "More than fine, actually."

"Okay," Hermione acknowledged, with a knowing smile beginning to creep onto her lips. "What were you saying, Ginny?"

"Oh! Err, I was just talking about her downstairs. She's driving me crazy, the stuck-up, sarcastic, bitc…"

Ginny's next words were cut off by the bedroom door flying open and a stunningly beautiful blonde woman striding into the room carrying a tray.

"Arry, eet 'as been too long!" Fleur declared in a throaty voice. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could just see Ginny and Hermione glaring at the French beauty. A moment later, a flushed looking Molly Weasley also charged into the room.

"I was just about to bring the tray up myself!" Mrs Weasley declared angrily.

"Eet was no trouble," Fleur replied breezily, before placing the tray on Harry's knees and then bending down to kiss both his cheeks. "I 'ave been longing to see you again, 'Arry. My sister, Gabrielle, she never stops talking about you. She will be delighted to see you again."

"Oh… is she here, too?" Harry asked in surprise.

"No, you silly boy," Fleur laughed. "I mean next summer, when we… but do you not know?"

"Know what?" Harry demanded.

"We haven't had a chance to tell him yet," Mrs Weasley said irritably.

"Bill and I are going to be married!" Fleur told him happily.

"Oh, congratulations!" Harry said warmly, earning him a radiant smile from the Frenchwoman, and a scowl from the three other females in the room.

"Thank you, 'Arry! Anyway, I will leave you to your breakfast. I am sure we will have a chance to talk later. After all, zere is not much to do 'ere, unless you like cooking or chickens. Zee you later!"

And with those words, she turned gracefully and virtually floated out of the room.

"Was it my imagination, or was Fleur trying to set me up with her ten-year-old sister?" Harry said indignantly as soon as she'd gone.

"That would be about your speed," Ginny sniggered.

"Oh, you think I should date small girls, do you?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. "Or perhaps one small girl in particular?"

For a second, Ginny gasped before a wicked smile crept onto her lips. "Never judge a girl by her size, Potter," she advised saucily.

"I never do," he grinned back.

"I wish Bill hadn't rushed into this," Mrs Weasley lamented, apparently oblivious to the exchange between Harry and Ginny. "I really don't think that he and Fleur have a lot in common. He's a hard-working, down-to-earth sort and she's… well… not."

"They will make a very striking couple," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah, and besides, Bill's not that down-to-earth," Ginny admitted grudgingly. "He's a curse-breaker and likes a bit of adventure and glamour. I expect that's why he's gone for Phlegm."

"Stop calling her that, Ginny," Mrs Weasley scolded her daughter, as they others all sniggered. "Harry, eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

With a worried expression on her face, Mrs Weasley turned and shuffled out of the room. Ron looked around and blinked, like he was just awakening from a deep sleep.

"Aren't you used to her yet?" Harry demanded of his friend. "I mean, she's staying in the same house as you!"

"Mostly, but if she catches me unawares, well…" Ron shrugged.

"It's pathetic," Hermione said furiously, glaring at Ron.

"Actually, I have to agree with Hermione, mate," Harry said seriously. "You can't let other people mess with your mind like that. Yeah, this time it's just Fleur doing her whole Veela-thing, but next time it might be a Death Eater trying to use the Imperious Curse on you. You have to learn to fight it."

"Blimey, Harry, you're not seriously suggesting Fleur is like a Death Eater, are you?" Ron said incredulously.

"Of course that's not what he's saying," Hermione snapped. "He's just saying you shouldn't let yourself be influenced so easily."

"Unless he loves her, of course," Ginny said sarcastically. "Do you love Phlegm, Ronnikins? Do you want to give her a big, wet kiss?"

"Well, I would… I mean… of course I don't… err… just bloody shut it, Ginny!" Ron snapped angrily.

"Well, that clears that up nicely," Ginny smirked. Harry just chortled at his red-faced friend.

"Are you sure you're alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, changing the subject. "I just expected you to be more… upset about… things."

"You can say Sirius's name," Harry replied firmly, "and, yes, I'm alright. I mean, it still hurts that he's dead and that I'll never get the chance to spend more time with him, but I can't let it overwhelm me. In fact, his death has driven a few things home to me."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

Harry paused to eat a few mouthfuls of his rapidly-cooling breakfast, before he looked up at his friend with a determined glint in his eye.

"Things can't carry on the way they have been doing," he told her. "Voldemort's back and he has an army at his beck and call. We know that he wants me dead, and unless I get my head out of my backside, he's probably going to succeed. I can't afford to spend my time just bumbling through my studies at Hogwarts, wasting my time taking classes that are absolutely no use to me, and just relying on blind luck to keep me safe. Voldemort knows my weaknesses, and he knows how to get to me. It's time I started taking this threat seriously and learning how to do something about it."

Hermione, Ron and Ginny all exchanged worried expressions.

"Harry, mate, what exactly are you saying?" Ron asked nervously.

"I'm saying it's time to pull my finger out and start taking things seriously. I've already talked to Dumbledore about dropping certain classes and receiving personal instruction from him, and he's agreed. I'll probably start training with Mad-Eye Moody, too, amongst others. I can't waste my time pissing about with Divination while I have an insanely-powerful Dark wizard trying to kill me."

"You'll be getting personal lessons from Dumbledore? Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.

"Yes, but that's not all. I have other plans, and I want to involve you three, too. In fact, is there any way we can get Luna and Neville over here this afternoon? I'd really like to include them in this, as well," he asked.

"I can call Luna," Ginny agreed. "I know she and her father only took a short holiday this year, so she should be back home by now."

"And I can Floo-call Neville, if you want," Ron added. "But why do you need them here? What's this all about, mate?"

"I'd rather wait until we're all together to explain things," Harry said firmly. "A lot's happened in a very short space of time, and I'm going to need help and support from all of you."

Before anyone could say anything further, the door opened again and Mrs Weasley popped her head in.

"Ginny, can you come downstairs and help me with lunch," she said quietly.

For a second, it looked like Ginny was going to object, but instead she just nodded. "I'll be down in just a second," she promised.

"Thank you," Mrs Weasley said and disappeared.

"She only wants me down there so she doesn't have to be alone with Phlegm," Ginny grinned. "I'll call Luna and see if she can come over this afternoon, Harry."

"Thanks, Ginny, you're a star," he beamed at her.

With a brilliant smile, Ginny hopped off the bed and vanished through the door.

"You do remember she's dating Dean, don't you?" Hermione said pointedly as soon as she was gone.

"What? I was only being friendly," Harry protested.

"Besides, if Ginny dumps Dean for Harry, all the better," Ron announced.

"Ron!" Hermione gasped. "Dean is your friend. How can you say something like that?"

"Dean's okay, but I wouldn't exactly call him a friend," Ron shrugged. "Besides, I've heard some of the comments he's made about various girls over the years. I can't stand the thought that he'd be thinking about Ginny in those terms. Harry would be a much better match for my sister."

Hermione stared at him in surprise.

"Anyway, we've got more important things to worry about than who's dating who at the moment," Harry interrupted. "Ron, can you give Neville a call and see if he's free this afternoon?"

"Sure, mate. I bet he'll be thrilled to be asked," Ron confirmed.

"Great, now, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish this wonderful breakfast before it goes stone cold," Harry said, before popping half a sausage in his mouth. He didn't fail to notice Hermione looking at him quizzically.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Thanks for coming, guys. How's your holiday been so far?" Harry asked.

"Pretty good so far," Neville told him enthusiastically. "Gran seems to be really proud of me after the Ministry! She's even promised that we can go shopping next week to get me a new wand."

"My holiday's been a bit dull, I'm afraid," Luna admitted. "Daddy's been really busy with 'The Quibbler' so we haven't been able to go away this year. Hopefully you'll be able to liven things up a bit, Harry."

"He does have a tendency to do that, doesn't he?" Ginny grinned.

Harry smiled at his assembled friends. They had gathered in the paddock at the Burrow, having told Molly that they were going to play Quidditch. Fortunately, Mrs Weasley had never seen Neville's attempts at flying, so the excuse remained plausible.

"The first thing I want to do is apologise to you all," Harry began. "I'm sorry that I led you all into an ambush, and that most of you got hurt. Between Voldemort's twisted visions and that bloody elf, I was convinced Sirius was in danger. I really should have handled things differently."

The assembled group launched into a confused mess of denials, assurances and general dismissals of his apology. Harry held up his hand to silence them all.

"Thank you for your kind words, but I know I screwed up and nothing will change that," Harry said firmly. "The one positive thing that came out of the whole disaster was that I learnt who my true friends are. I can't thank you all enough for standing by me and fighting by my side. I truly love you all."

The three girls all beamed happily at his pronouncement, while Ron and Neville just shared an embarrassed look. It almost made Harry snort with laughter at their awkwardness.

"The other thing it did," Harry continued, "was convince me that things need to change radically. As I mentioned earlier, I have convinced the Headmaster to let me drop all but my core subjects, and he has agreed to start personally training me so that I might at least stand a chance of beating Voldemort. The duel those two fought really opened my eyes, and made me determined to get better. Just throwing a few Stunning Spells around just isn't going to cut it anymore."

"Wow, private lessons with Dumbledore! That's great, Harry," Neville said excitedly. "Are you going to have time to teach us any of the stuff that you learn?"

"Ah, now we come to the real reason that I asked you all to come here," Harry admitted. "Despite being a very powerful wizard, Voldemort has numerous followers to do his bidding. Even he can't do everything himself. One thing the last few years has taught me is that I need to rely on my friends more. If I'd listened to Hermione and not insisted that we all rush off to the Ministry, for instance, Sirius might still be alive. When I was floundering around in desperate need to talk to him earlier in the term, Ginny came up with a brilliant plan on how I could do that. These are just some examples as to why I need you lot so much. Voldemort has his inner circle to support him, and I'd like you five to be mine."

"Inner circle? You want to have followers just like Voldemort?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Yeah, but the big difference is that I expect my followers to tell me when I'm being a prat and to give me a kick up the backside when I need it," Harry smiled.

"I can do that," Ron chuckled. "I hereby appoint myself chief arse-kicker to the Boy Who Lived. I'll even get some steel-capped boots, especially."

"I don't understand, Harry," Hermione persisted. "You've always hated having attention drawn to you or having to be in command. We had to practically beg you to teach the D.A. Why are you suddenly talking about 'followers' and having your own inner circle?"

"I can see a bit of clarification is needed," he grinned. "When I say 'followers' I actually mean people who are going to follow me into battle when we take on the Death Eaters, because I intend to be right at the front when we do. You lot are my friends, and I need your strength, your intelligence, and your wisdom to win this fight. I know we all share the same hatred of Voldemort and what he stands for, and I know you'll willingly fight him. I can't do this alone, so I that's why I want you five, my closest friends, to stand at my shoulder when I take on Voldemort."

"Who says it's got to be you that fights him?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "What aren't you telling us?"

"I never can get anything past you, can I?" he replied. "You see, I know it has to be me that has to fight him, because that's what the prophecy said. I've heard the complete thing."

"How? I thought it was destroyed in the fight," Neville protested.

"It turns out that the person who first heard it was Dumbledore. He's been keeping the contents of it from me for years. More to the point, he's known that I was going to have to fight Voldemort and done sod-all useful to prepare me," Harry explained.

"What exactly does it say?" Ginny demanded.

Harry grinned. When Ginny adopted that tone of voice, he certainly wasn't going to argue with her. He recited it for them.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

"Bloody hell," Ron gasped.

"Oh, Harry, that's awful…" Hermione nearly sobbed.

"I wonder if Daddy will have made strawberry tart for pudding. That's my favourite," Luna chirped.

Everyone turned to stare at her.

"Well, it's not that much of a surprise, is it?" she said defensively. "There must have been a reason You-Know-Who keeps coming after Harry. It had to be because he was a direct threat, hadn't it? I could have guessed that's what the prophecy said."

"Wait a minute," Neville said hesitantly. "I was born as the seventh month died, and Gran's always telling me that my parents battled with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named three times."

Harry lifted his fringe to show his faint scar. "Don't worry, Neville, you're off the hook. My scar means that I was the one to be marked by him."

Neville looked visibly relieved.

"What happened to your scar, Harry? It normally looks a lot more vivid than that," Ginny noted.

"Really? You must have been looking at me a lot to notice something like that, Miss Weasley," Harry teased.

"Answer the question," Ginny said firmly, although her lips were twitching in amusement.

"It has to do with Voldemort's failed attempt to possess me back at the Ministry," Harry began, spinning the carefully prepared lie he had decided to tell his friends. "For some reason, he found that trying to get into my head caused him agony. Dumbledore claimed it was because of my love of Sirius that caused him pain; Voldemort physically cannot bear to experience love in any way. Somehow, when Voldemort fled my mind, he managed to break the connection between us. My scar has now begun to fade as a result, and I don't get those painful visions anymore."

"That's fantastic, Harry!" Ginny exclaimed in delight, and leapt to her feet and hugged him. Harry willingly accepted her embrace, and pointedly ignored the smirks that the others directed at him.

"Yeah, it's wonderful to know that he can't get into my head anymore," he admitted truthfully, as Ginny released him and sat back down on the grass. "Although, the visions have been useful in the past, I must admit."

"Dad might have died if you hadn't had that one after the snake attacked him," Ron agreed.

"Maybe, but it's still wonderful news that Harry's broken the connection," Hermione said adamantly. "It could work both ways, remember. Look at how Voldemort was able to plant the vision of Sirius being captured into his mind. We would never have known if what he was seeing was real or not."

"I'm not saying that it's not a good thing, just that I was glad he had that ability back then," Ron pointed out.

"Amen," Ginny agreed.

"So, I suppose the only question is what we're going to call ourselves? If Voldemort has his inner circle, what shall we be? Harry's inner rectangle? His inner rhombus?" Luna asked.

"I don't think we have to be so shape oriented," Hermione huffed. "Besides, we haven't actually agreed to this idea, have we?"

"Are you going to refuse?" Ginny asked her in surprise.

"Of course not! I've been following this idiot into stupidly dangerous situations since I got to Hogwarts and I'm not about to stop now," Hermione snapped.

"See, Voldemort wouldn't get this kind of ego-control," Harry snorted.

"It's probably why he turned out so badly," Luna acknowledged sagely. "Everyone needs a friend to tell them if they are being foolish."

"Probably several friends in Ron's case," Ginny added.

"Oi!" the redhead shouted indignantly.

"I can't see how I'm going to be much use to you, Harry," Neville said shyly, "but I'll help in any way I can."

"Says the bloke who nearly attacked the Death Eaters with his teeth after his wand got broken," Harry smirked. "Neville, trust me, I'm both delighted and honoured that you'll help me."

Neville blushed red, but looked rather proud, nevertheless.

"So, what do you have planned for your inner pentagon, Harry?" Luna asked. "Or do we include you in the number? Then we'd have to be an inner hexagon."

"I'll leave the naming thing to you, Luna," Harry smiled. "Until I've spoken to Dumbledore again, I'm not sure what our exact plans will be. Ideally, I'd like us to meet up every day for at least a couple of hours somewhere that we'll be allowed to use magic. I'll ask the Headmaster if we can have access to Hogwarts during the holidays, but if not we'll have to think of somewhere else. Once I start to learn from Dumbledore, I intend to pass those lessons onto you guys. Plus, I want you all to think about your own individual strengths and how you can best use them."

"Just think, we'll be learning stuff from Dumbledore!" Ron exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Good heavens, Ron, don't tell me you're actually looking forward to receiving some education, and during the holidays, too?" Hermione teased.

Ron frowned. "It's like Harry said; You-Know-Who is back and we can't afford to sit on our backsides. If we're going to stand up to the likes of Malfoy and Lestrange, then we've got to get good. Really good. Better that I miss out on playing a few games of Quidditch over the summer than having those buggers take over the world."

"Ronald, that might actually be the most grown-up and responsible thing you've ever said," Hermione told him warmly.

"See, Harry's already responsible for a miracle occurring. After this, defeating Voldemort will be a breeze," Ginny smirked.

Everyone laughed, although Harry couldn't help but notice how pleased Ron seemed at receiving Hermione's praise. Perhaps, he speculated, that the penny might have finally dropped for his friend, and Ron might actually get off his bum and do something about hooking up with Hermione. Although if he did, that probably would qualify as a genuine miracle.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Dumbledore arrived back at the Burrow the very next day. Mrs Weasley fussed over the old man, offering him tea and cake the moment he stepped through the door. She also allowed Arthur's shed to be used for the 'private chat' that the old wizard had requested with Harry. The two of them, encumbered with a sizable fruitcake and mug of tea each, made their way to the shed and settled down for what Harry suspected would be an interesting conversation.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore began after cutting himself a generous wedge of cake, "I've had the chance to digest all that you told me, and I have come to make a few suggestions as to how we can proceed from this point."

"I'm all ears," Harry informed him before taking a sip of tea.

"First things first, I would like you to reconsider your decision not to help me obtain the services of Horace Slughorn. Please, hear what I have to say before you make any comment," he said quickly as Harry was indeed in the process of interrupting. "Now, I know you feel placing Severus in the position of Defence Professor is a mistake, and I can quite understand why you feel like this, but I would like to propose a deal to you. In exchange for your help in persuading Horace to resume his position as Potions Master, I would include Defence as one of the subjects you would be taught personally by myself. You and Professor Snape wouldn't need to have any contact throughout the school year."

"Sounds wonderful for me, but what about all the other poor sods who have to put up with his useless teaching?" Harry asked sharply.

"I intend to address that question in two ways. Firstly, I've had a long chat with Severus and pressed upon him how vital Defence classes are in the current climate. I have assurances and, yes, I will be checking up on his classes, that he will do his very utmost to teach the subject to the very highest standards. I have to confess, I suspect that Professor Snape's rather abrasive teaching style will rather be blunted by the fact that you will not be in attendance in any of his classes. I can only say his reaction to learning that news was rather… joyous," Dumbledore winced.

"Had you really not figured out that the man hates me?" Harry asked in disbelief. "He loathes the sight of me."

"I rather suspect that it's your father that he hates the sight of, and you do unfortunately have a remarkable resemblance to him," Dumbledore noted. "Anyway, if those assurances are not enough, I can suggest another means to ensure that the pupils of Hogwarts all get the necessary training that they require. It occurs to me that pulling you out of so many of your lessons will leave you rather isolated from your fellow pupils. I therefore suggest killing two Jobberknolls with one stone. I propose that your marvellous Defence group from last year be continued and opened up as a regular club open to all pupils. I'd be happy to sponsor it myself."

"All pupils? Including the Slytherins?" Harry said incredulously.

"Now, Harry, I would stress that not all Slytherins are evil followers of Voldemort. Indeed, only a small percentage of the House have ever thrown their lot in with him. Even so, I suggest that in view of the subject matter being taught, you insist that all club members sign a variation of that wonderful agreement that Miss Granger created. I would suggest including a few paragraphs stipulating that any knowledge learnt at the club must expressly not be used for Dark or evil purposes, although I am sure your friend is completely capable of coming up with the right wording, herself."

Harry pondered the suggestion for a moment. He could certainly see the possibilities of such an arrangement.

"Okay, I'm largely in agreement, but I want to chat it over with my friends first. After all, I'll be needing their help to run the club, not to mention they would be the ones who have to put up with Defence lessons from Professor Snape," he replied.

"Naturally, and your desire to discuss it with your friends does you credit. Time, however, is a factor as I fear that Horace Slughorn might be preparing to move from his current location and we need to catch him before he does. As it was rather a bother tracking him down in the first place, I would be grateful if you could provide me with your answer as soon as possible. I propose to return here tomorrow evening and, if you are amenable, we will go and jointly talk with Horace."

"That's fine," Harry nodded. "Now, on to other matters. When are we going to start training and when are we going to start tackling the Horcruxes?"

"I would like to begin your additional education as soon as possible, but I was uncertain whether you wished to have your holidays interrupted," the old man smiled.

"I think this is a bit more important than me getting in some sunbathing," Harry replied. "I do, however, want to pass on some of the knowledge I will gain onto my friends. Can I suggest we meet in the mornings, which will leave the afternoons free for me to teach them? It will be good practice for the new club."

"That sounds like an excellent idea. Regarding the Horcruxes, I do want you to get to a certain level of training before we start tackling them, although I as I mentioned to you before, I have already started collecting the ones I knew of. We will discuss this more in depth when we meet for our first training session," Dumbledore suggested.

"Will we be working at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"I think that would be for the best. I have a Floo connection with restricted access in my office, and can easily modify it to permit entry from the Burrow," the Headmaster confirmed.

"Excellent, let me talk with everybody, and we'll meet up again tomorrow evening," Harry suggested.

"Indeed, although I hope you will permit me to finish the most wonderful cake of Molly's before I go. It really is too good to waste," Dumbledore smiled.

Harry nodded and cut himself another slice. The Headmaster was right, the cake was sublime.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"You mean I had the chance to go a whole year without having any lessons with Snape, and you want to ruin that?"

Ron glared at Harry as if he'd just told him that he was planning to cancel Christmas.

"Honestly, Ron, why make such a big thing out of it?" Hermione demanded. "You'd have to put up with him in Potions classes, so what's the difference if it's Defence that he's teaching instead?"

Ron waved a piece of parchment that contained his OWL results at the bushy-haired witch. "Snape only takes 'Outstanding' students , remember? As it stands, I won't be taking Potions next year, which means I was free of that greasy git. Now I not only miss out on that class, but I have to suffer Snape sneering at me all year, too!"

"I'm not so sure," Harry interrupted. "Snape was the only teacher who insisted on that rule. Everyone else is happy to have 'exceeds expectations' level students in their classes. Slughorn is a pretty reasonable bloke; I expect that he'll be the same as the others. This way, you'll be able to take your Potion NEWT."

"How do you know Slughorn is reasonable?" Hermione asked. "I thought you said you hadn't met him yet."

"Oh, I mean from what Dumbledore has told me about him," Harry added hurriedly, whilst trying to ignore the fact that he could clearly see in image of the man in his head. Tom Riddle had been a favourite of Horace Slughorn's, and Harry found he could remember a surprising amount about the man.

"Great, more work," Ron moaned.

"What do the rest of you think?" Harry asked his other friends who were lounging on the grass in front of him.

"I'd have had a class with Snape no matter what," Ginny shrugged. "At least this way I get to have you help me with Defence lessons. I rather like that idea."

"Oh, yes, I loved the D.A." Luna agreed. "If it means that we get to continue that, then I'll gladly welcome Professor Snape as the new Defence teacher."

"I won't," Neville said glumly. "I'm like Ron; I would have escaped having him as a teacher next year. But if you think this is important, Harry, then I'll stand by you."

"Thanks, guys, but I'm actually going to need a bit more from you then just your agreement. If the D.A. is going to be opened to pupils of all ages from each of the Houses, it's probably going to be too big for me to teach alone. I'm going to need help from all of the people who were members last year, you five the most. I'll need you all to do some teaching of your own, even if it's just showing some first or second years how to cast simple jinxes. You all reckon you're up for that?" Harry asked seriously.

"Of course we are," Hermione answered before anyone else had the chance. "We'd be delighted to help out."

"Yeah, thanks, Hermione," Ron grumbled quietly.

Harry chuckled. "Well, I'm glad that's all settled. I'll tell Dumbledore tomorrow that I'm willing to help him. Of course, if this Slughorn bloke refuses to come back to Hogwarts this is all academic."

"What, and miss out on the chance to teach the legendary Harry Potter? No chance," Ginny smirked.

"We'll see," Harry said, favouring the young redhead with a warm smile.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Wands out, Harry," Dumbledore announced grimly.

They were standing in front of a neat, stone house situated in its own well-ordered little garden. What had upset Dumbledore so much was the fact that the front door of the house was hanging off its hinges.

They had Apparated to some small, English village that Harry didn't quite catch the name of in an effort to persuade the elusive Horace Slughorn to teach at Hogwarts next term. At first glance it appeared someone had found him first, although Harry found himself suspicious.

"There's no Dark Mark set over the house," he noted coolly.

"Quite right, Harry, although it is possible other people than the servants of Voldemort may be hunting Horace. We must proceed with caution," Dumbledore advised.

They entered the small house and entered the sitting room, only to find it a scene of total devastation. Even so, things still did not sit right with Harry. Although various items of furniture lay smashed on the floor around him, the destruction seemed a little bit too selective to him. While there were blood splatters on the far wall, he struggled to understand how they could have got there without making a similar mess on the carpet. He'd lay odds that this was all staged to create the impression that there had been a fight here.

Looking around the room, Harry's eyes fell on an overstuffed armchair. Not only was the chair in immaculate condition, its style seemed out-of-place in comparison to the other expensive looking items in the room.

With a smug grin on his face, Harry crossed the room and stood beside the armchair. Without warning, he kicked it as hard as he could.

"Arraggh!" a voice screamed, and the chair instantly morphed into a fat, bald old man with an enormous handlebar moustache. The man grabbed his shin and began to rub it tenderly.

"Merlin's beard, boy! What did you do that for?" Horace Slughorn demanded.

Harry shrugged. "Perhaps if you'd be gracious enough to greet us face to face I wouldn't have had to kick lumps out of you," he replied in an unfriendly voice.

The sight of Horace Slughorn laying in front of him stirred many of Tom's memories of the man in Harry's mind, and not all of them were positive. While Tom had respected the man's great knowledge and intellect, he'd been disgusted by his petty ambitions and greed. Slughorn was a man who liked his comforts and sought nothing beyond them. Plus, he had… darker… habits which left a bad taste in Harry's mouth.

"Good evening, Horace," Dumbledore said, coming over to stand next to Harry.

"Albus," Slughorn greeted him while trying to climb to his feet.

"Here, allow me," Dumbledore said, offering his arm to the rotund, struggling man. Working together, they managed to haul Slughorn up. Once on his feet, the man turned and glared at Harry.

"May I ask how you knew it was me?" he asked pointedly, "or do you make it a habit to enter the homes of complete strangers and start kicking their furniture?"

"This damage is obviously staged," Harry replied, looking Slughorn straight in the eye. "Plus there would have been a Dark Mark set over the house if the Death Eaters had really been here."

"Ah, I knew I forgot something," the man lamented.

"Horace, it's my extreme pleasure to introduce Harry Potter," Dumbledore said with an extravagant gesture. "Harry, this is my old friend and colleague, Horace Slughorn."

"Oho, Harry Potter, is it?" Horace said, his surly attitude apparently forgotten. "Please to meet you, my dear boy."

"Professor," Harry said, inclining his head slightly. For some reason, he didn't feel inclined to shake the man's hand.

Slughorn's smile faded, and he turned abruptly towards Dumbledore.

"So that's how you thought you'd persuade me to return to Hogwarts, is it? Well, the answer's still no, Albus," he said crossly.

"I suppose we can…" Dumbledore began.

"Do you mind if we could have a few moments alone, Professor?" Harry interrupted.

Dumbledore looked at him in surprise for a moment, before a gracious smile crept onto his lips. "I am in dire need of the bathroom, anyway," he acknowledged and walked out of the room.

Harry turned to look at Slughorn with a stern look on his face. They stood staring at each other for a moment.

"You do look very much like your father," Slughorn said, sounding a little nervous, "except for your eyes, of course. Those are so like your mother's."

Harry continued to regard the old man silently.

"She really was one of my favourites, you know. You really shouldn't have favourites as a teacher, but she…" his voice trailed off, stifled in the face of Harry's continued glare. A little desperately, he turned and pointed at a collection of framed photographs arranged on a dresser. "Her picture is right here!"

Slughorn waddled over to the dresser and picked up a photo which he offered to Harry. With his eyes still fixed disapprovingly on the ex-teacher, Harry reached out a hand and took the frame. Only then did he glance down at it. There, smiling up at him was an image of his mother taken around her fifth or sixth year he would guess. Her auburn hair was tied back neatly and her eyes seemed to glitter with happiness. A lump began to form in his throat as he gazed at the unfamiliar image.

"Lily Evans really was one of my all-time favourite students," Slughorn said enthusiastically, perhaps picking up on Harry's emotional response to the picture. "A most wonderful pupil; so vivacious and intelligent. Quite charming, too. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. I was Head of Slytherin, you know, although I hope you don't hold that against me."

"I don't," Harry answered shortly.

"Err, very good of you, my dear boy. Of course, it would have been rare for a Muggleborn such as her to be in Slytherin, of course, but then she was an unusual young woman. She could have been a pure-blood, she was so good."

"You know, one of my best friends is a Muggleborn, and she's by far the best in our year, all the stuck-up Slytherin pure-bloods included," he replied in a cold, frosty tone.

"Oh, you mustn't think I'm prejudice! No, no, no," Slughorn cried. "Didn't I say Lily was one of my favourites? Why, here's a picture of Dirk Cresswell who was in the same year as your mother – he's now Head of the Goblin Liaison Office. He was Muggleborn, too."

Harry walked over and gently placed the picture of his mother back on the dresser. He eyed the other photos with distaste.

"All my ex-students are here," Slughorn said with a wave of his hand. "You'll notice, for instance, Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet. He's always interested in my take on the day's news."

At the mention of Cuffe's name, Harry held out his hand expectantly. Quickly, Slughorn picked up the signed photo of the journalist and handed it to Harry with a proud smile. Harry took one look at the photo, and then roughly smashed it against the wall. The glass shattered and flew everywhere.

"What in Merlin's name are you…" and outraged Slughorn began.

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared. "Editor of the Daily Prophet, eh? Let me just check, that's the same worthless rag that's been calling me a deranged, lying madman for the last two years, is it? Did Barnabas ask your opinion before he started printing a pile of shit about me?"

"I…" the stunned man spluttered.

"I see a few other dubious faces amongst your collection, too. I take it you don't care what sort of people your prodigies turn out to be, then? I guess you're more interested in what they can do for you."

"Now, see here…" Slughorn started to protest.

"But looking here, I don't see a picture of you most famous prodigy, Horace. Tell me, why isn't there a nice signed photo of Tom Riddle here?" Harry asked in an acidic tone.

Slughorn looked as if he'd been slapped in the face. He turned an alarming shade of red and began to stutter a muted protest that he'd never heard of anyone by that name.

"I told you to SHUT UP! I'm not prepared to stand here and listen to your lies," Harry growled in a tone that shut the old man up instantly. "I know all about Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort as he's known these days. I also know exactly what you taught him, too. Really, Horace, were you so taken with the young man that you didn't for a moment think that his interest in Horcruxes might actually be more than just academic?"

Slughorn looked at him in horror, and took a stumbling step backwards.

"Do you know the real reason that Dumbledore was so keen to get you to come back to Hogwarts? It's because he believed that you had vital information regarding the number of Horcruxes that Riddle made. But that really doesn't matter anymore, because we know, despite your pathetic attempts to cover up your involvement. Seven is a magically profound number, isn't it, Professor?" he spat.

The old teacher's eyes were wild with horror at Harry's words, and his mouth moved without any audible sound escaping.

"I suppose it was a good deal for Riddle, wasn't it? You gave him all the basic information he needed to begin to create is Horcruxes and all he had to do in return was give you the occasional hand job. He was a good-looking boy, Tom, wasn't he? I guess having to hold your shrivelled todger was small price to pay for immortality," Harry sneered.

By now, Slughorn's legs had given out and he fell to the floor. He looked up at Harry with terror on his face. "How could you possible know these things?" he sobbed.

"You'd be surprised what I know," Harry replied with a grim expression on his face, "and this information in fact means that we don't actually need you, do we? Voldemort and his Death Eaters are welcome to you!"

"No!" Slughorn cried. "Please, I…"

"Do you really think Voldemort will leave you alone?" Harry demanded of the grovelling man. "To his knowledge, you're the only man alive who has the slightest idea that he might have created Horcruxes. Voldemort will do anything to keep that fact a secret, which means that he'll do anything in his power to silence you. You're living on borrowed time, Horace."

Slughorn was openly weeping by now. "No, please, I…"

"However, if… no, sorry, I mean when Voldemort gets hold of you, he'll be able to wring a confession out of you easily. In fact, I doubt you'd last five seconds before you started spilling your guts. As we don't particularly want the Dark Lord to know what we know, against my better judgement I suppose we'll have to offer you safety," Harry told him. "The only place you'll be safe is Hogwarts. Your only chance is to take up the Potions position that Dumbledore previously offered you. Do you accept?"

"Yes, yes, I hardly have any choice, do I?" Slughorn sobbed.

"Good. But let me tell you something, Horace Slughorn, if I catch wind that you've been enticing young male pupils at the school to perform little 'favours' for you in return for special treatment, I'll cut your withered little dick off myself and ram it down your throat! Got that?"

Slughorn nodded weakly. Barely able to contain his disgust at the cringing man, Harry turned and headed out the room. As he'd been expecting, Dumbledore was standing just outside with a disapproving expression on his face.

"He's your responsibility now," Harry told him sharply. "If he starts playing his old games I'll make sure that it becomes public knowledge that you were aware of his peculiarities when you hired him. Knowing your personal tastes in sexual partners, that's not going to go down too well, is it?" Harry told him flatly. "I'll catch the Knight Bus back to the Burrow."

Without a backward glance, Harry strode out of the house, barely able to contain his disgust and loathing.


	4. Chapter 4 – Key to the Universe

**Chapter 4 – Key to the Universe**

When I started this story, I said it would be a Super! Harry tale, and I don't think that just inheriting a few of Tom's memories is going to cut it in that department, do you? No, I think this calls for something a bit more... exotic. Hopefully it doesn't come over too Jedi-like and I'll have to start blaming the whole thing on midi-chlorians, or something. On the plus side, I do get to prove that large hadron collider in Cern is a complete waste of time and money. Not many Harry Potter fan fics can claim that!

Huge thanks to Arnel, whom I'm currently confusing with my British regional grammar oddities.

* * *

Harry stepped gracefully out of the Floo, being sure to bend his knees just at the moment of arrival. That, he thought bitterly, was just another of the things no one had bothered to tell him about.

Looking around, Harry noted that the headmaster's office had apparently been completely repaired since he'd had his little temper tantrum at the end of the previous term. Still, with everything he now knew, he felt that Dumbledore had been lucky he'd restricted his destructive impulses to the man's possessions and not his physical person.

Dumbledore himself was sitting behind his large desk with a rather guarded smile on his lips. Harry speculated that after his confrontation with Slughorn the day before, the man was feeling a little wary of him at the moment. Probably with good reason, too.

"Good morning, Harry. Right on time, I see," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"Morning, Professor," Harry replied, "I didn't want to be late for our first training session now, did I?"

"Yes, but perhaps before we begin I thought we'd have a little chat first. Harry, I was rather shocked by the ruthlessness you displayed in your handling of Horace Slughorn. May I enquire how you knew so much about him?"

Harry was barely able to resist smirking. The old wizard clearly didn't like it when people discovered any of his precious secrets.

"Tom told me," Harry said frankly. "As well as providing the locations of the Horcruxes, he gave me some other useful bits of information that he felt I might need in the future."

"Such as?" Dumbledore pressed.

"Ahhhhhh… no. I think I'm going to keep all those tasty little nuggets to myself, for the moment. Oh, and don't even think of using Legilimency on me, sir, Tom warned me about that, too."

"I must confess I'm somewhat alarmed at what Tom Riddle might have put into your head, Harry. I beg you, don't believe everything he told you," Dumbledore implored.

"Why shouldn't I? Everything he told me has proven to be true so far," Harry replied firmly. "Speaking of which, you clearly know exactly what kind of man Slughorn is; why in the name of all that's holy do you so desperately want a paedophile to become a teacher here again?"

"Things are rarely black and white, Harry," Dumbledore sighed. "Horace was never predatory, if that's what you're implying. He just made some… poor decisions, shall we say. All of his sexual partners were completely consensual, I can assure you. It was just very foolish of him to enter into a relationship with a pupil. That was a clear breech of regulations and one that resulted in him being asked to leave the school."

"If it was all so consensual, why did the Board of Governors hush the whole thing up? As I understand it, Slughorn was allowed to take early retirement and no mention of the reasons behind it was ever made public. Just how old was this 'consenting' pupil, anyway?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "He was fourteen."

Harry sneered. "And you think that was just an error of judgement on Slughorn's part, do you? If I'd had my way, the bastard would have been hung from the Astronomy Tower by his privates."

"I'm not defending his actions," Dumbledore insisted. "As an educator, the idea of any member of staff entering into sexual relations with a pupil is completely reprehensible. As soon as I discovered what had happened, I made clear to Horace that he had to leave. I admit, the Board heavily influenced how that occurred, but it was done as much to protect the pupil involved as Horace. I'm merely stating that his acts weren't quite as disgusting as might have first appeared."

"They seem plenty disgusting to me, and I'm sure most people would agree with me. Do you think my mother would have had anything to do with him if she'd known what he was up to?

"I dare say not," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Abuse of a child would have been the worst thing imaginable to Lily."

"Just remember, there are many forms of abuse other than sexual, too," Harry pointed out acidly. "I got to experience that first hand at the Dursley's remember. And answer me this, sir, do you think Tom Riddle would have ever become Lord Voldemort if he hadn't been left at that bloody appalling orphanage?"

"Trust me, Harry, staying with what little family he had left would have been even worse," Dumbledore insisted. "While I don't doubt that dreadful place was in some ways responsible for fashioning how he turned out, there were no easy solutions to the problem. Where else could he have gone? The same could be said for you, Harry. Everyone your parents had named as potential guardians for you were either dead or incapable of looking after you. Did you know that after they were cleared of being supporters of Voldemort, the Malfoys made several attempts to find out where you were and even offered to adopt you? Sometimes terrible situations only occur because the alternatives are much worse."

"And sometimes they occur because that's exactly what some powerful person wants," Harry retorted.

"Harry, I can only reiterate what I previously said. The choices I made were wrong, but at the time I didn't see any alternatives. Even you acknowledged that. I don't doubt that I will receive punishment for my sins in the next life, quite probably by your parents' hands if they have any say in the matter. But if we continue to have this argument we will get nowhere. I have little time left to me, and a great deal to teach you. Can't you find it in your heart to put our differences aside and move on?" Dumbledore beseeched him.

Harry took a deep breath. As much as he hated to admit it, Dumbledore was right. Constantly opening old wounds would get them nowhere, and if he was going to defeat Voldemort he needed the old wizard's help.

"You're right," he agreed. "We've covered all this and it doesn't need repeating. Perhaps we should start my training, instead."

"Quite so, Harry, quite so. I rather thought that we'd use that wonderful room you used to host Dumbledore's Army last term. We will require quite a lot of space and it seems the best choice available."

"Yeah, it would," Harry nodded.

"Perhaps I might suggest that next term your club seeks a new title, though," Dumbledore smiled as he rose to his feet. "The present one seems to make the Ministry nervous for some reason."

"That's probably a good idea," Harry said, smiling for the first time since he arrived.

They left the headmaster's office and headed towards the main stairway. As they walked, Dumbledore took the opportunity to quiz Harry about his future plans.

"I'm rather intrigued as to why you insisted your friends receive extra classes over the holidays," Dumbledore confessed. "Perhaps if it had just been Mr Weasley and Miss Granger I would have understood, but I note your circle of friends has expanded somewhat."

"Ginny, Luna and Neville are all loyal and capable. None of them have ever turned against me and all three hate Voldemort and all he stands for. Even with Ron and Hermione's help, I doubt I'll be able to teach everyone who wants to join the Defence Club next year, and the extra hands will come in handy, particularly in handling the lower years. Besides, they were with me at the Ministry and we've become something of a team now," Harry explained.

"I see," Dumbledore said with a nod of approval. "I must compliment you on your choice of friends. All five of your group have exemplary characters and varying skill sets, but are not perhaps the average person's immediate choice when seeking help. You have ignored their superficial defects and seen through to their real personalities."

"Yeah, I really think that…" Harry began, but his voice trailed off. The further he walked in the castle the stranger he began to feel. It seemed to him almost if the air was full of static electricity and he kept seeing flashes before his eyes. He stopped for a second and removed his glasses. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to clear them.

"Is there something wrong, Harry?" Dumbledore enquired.

"I… I'm not sure," Harry mumbled, looking around him in confusion.

As soon as he'd removed his glasses, he'd begun to see colours. Strange, twisting tendrils of multi-coloured light writhed in front of him. One tendril curled around him, shimmering in a hypnotic blaze of iridescent blues and greens. He reached out a hesitant finger and touched it.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, feeling like he'd just received an electric shock.

"What can you see, Harry?" Dumbledore asked intently.

"Colours, swirling colours, everywhere!" Harry replied in wonder.

"What did you feel when you reached out and touched these colours?" Dumbledore pressed.

"I felt…" Harry began before turned to look at the Professor, who was observing him with what could only be described as eagerness. "I felt power."

"Remarkable," Dumbledore breathed. "You know, my boy, I was in my forties before I saw what you're seeing now. I did wonder if the merging of your soul with Tom Riddle's might have had some unexpected side-effects, and I have been proved right. I rather think it has accelerated your growth, somewhat."

"What am I seeing?" Harry asked in surprise. Riddle never mentioned any of this.

"It's exactly as you described it, Harry, you're seeing power. Or maybe a better name for it would be magic. You're seeing magic, itself. No doubt the concentration of magic within the walls of Hogwarts has triggered this reaction," Dumbledore smiled.

"It has substance? Why have I never seen it before?" Harry gasped.

"Very few wizards or witches can actually see it, and only the very most powerful ever do," Dumbledore explained. "Generally, we gain power as we get older; magic is like a muscle that needs to be exercised for it to build. Even the most powerful wizards only normally become aware of what you're seeing after they hit middle age. That fact that you have seen it while still a teenager suggest you will be one of the most powerful wizards who ever lived. You may grow to rival Merlin himself, my boy," the old wizard explained cheerfully.

"I thought magic was inside of us," Harry objected. "At least, that's the way I've always heard it explained."

"Very true, all of us have a magical core that we draw upon when we cast a spell. But magic is around us, and infuses all matter. In fact, it even exerts its own gravitation force. I understand that Muggle scientists are aware that something exists beyond their comprehension simply because of the pull of this force. Sadly for them, they are completely incapable of ever discovering what it is, simply because they have no magic themselves."

"But… there's so much of it," Harry said, looking out of a window. As far as he could see was a swirling mass of colour.

"As I understand it, the greater part of the universe is made up of it," Dumbledore smiled. "It is the building block of creation. All matter is infused with it, and actually interacts with it. Without this magical power source, I doubt that space and time as we know it would even exist."

"You mean, this stuff is…" he began, but faltered as he failed to find the right words.

"It is the fabric that binds the universe together, and powers it. From the smallest atom, to the vastest star, this is the thing that gave it life. Reality itself it made up of it," Dumbledore smiled, looking round him. "You, Harry, have discovered the key to creation."

"Who else can see this?" Harry asked. "I mean, why are we never taught about this?"

"As with all things, with great power comes great responsibility," the old wizards said gravely. "Imagine what could happen if an evil person managed to harness this power. The possibilities are endless… and terrifying."

"What exactly can be achieved with it?" Harry asked, suddenly excited.

"I have no idea. In fact, I would venture that no one does. As I said, only the most powerful of us have even had the ability to even become aware of what is all around us, and fewer still have been ability to utilise that power. I myself have only been able to tap into it in a small way, but even that has yielded extraordinary results. I confess, the idea that you, not yet sixteen, can see and feel what is around you, is incredibly exciting."

"Could this be 'the power he knows not'?" he asked.

"Quite possibly, but we will have to work to develop it," Dumbledore smiled. "I rather think we will have to begin with more mundane tasks before we can start you trying to tap into this power. I would hate for you to blow yourself to smithereens trying to utilise it while casting a Lumos Charm, for instance."

"No, definitely not," Harry gulped.

"Then let's continue on to the 'Come and Go' room," Dumbledore suggested. "Oh, and don't worry about all those confusing colours, my boy. After a while, you'll barely notice they're there!"

"Good, they're giving me a headache," he complained.

In fact, the trip proved extremely difficult for Harry. Several times Dumbledore had to provide a steadying hand as he stumbled, blinded by the mesmerising light show that now surrounded him. His whole body tingled as he walked through the twirling clouds, each touch making him shiver and gasp.

Fortunately, Dumbledore was as good as his word. By the time they reached the Room of Requirement the colours had begun to fade. Not vanish, certainly, but more to merge into the background, although Harry could clearly see them when he tried. The tingling sensation also subsided and instead he felt energised by the magic all around him. He suddenly had a very strong desire to begin his lessons, as he had a surplus of power he needed to work off urgently.

"Now, Harry, tell me what you think about when you cast a spell," Dumbledore asked him after they had entered the room. Without consciously thinking about it, Harry had requested the room to take on a similar appearance to that which it did when he was teaching the D.A.

"Well, I think about the incantation, of course, and the wand movements. Professor McGonagall always tells us it's important that we try and visualise what we want to achieve, too, particularly at the moment we recite the incantation."

"All perfectly correct, and yet, all total fallacy," Dumbledore smiled.

"Sorry?" Harry said quizzically.

"Magic, my boy, is all about intent and willpower. In our minds, we visualise what a spell or charm can do, perform the correct wand movements, and then release our magic via an incantation. But the individual elements of that process are irrelevant. Just by chanting a magic word, or waving a wand about, we don't instantly achieve our aims. No, it's the release of our magical power, crafted into form by our visualisation of the effects that we are trying to achieve, that's what enables us to do magic," Dumbledore explained.

"So, are you saying the incantations and wand movements aren't important?" Harry asked.

"To the organised mind, probably not. Tell me, Harry, when you witnessed my little spat with Voldemort back at the Ministry, did you recognise any of the spells either of us cast?" Dumbledore asked.

"I…" Harry started to say, before a hazy memory started to come to him. He began to remember Tom's memories of the subject. "No, neither of you used any incantations or recognisable wand movements. It doesn't matter, does it? If you have sufficient will and magical power, you can shape your magic into whatever you want, can't you?"

"Very astute, Harry, although there are limitations. Why do you think we teach magic the way we do?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Because the average person can't cast magic without doing it that way?"

"Quite so. The average person only succeeds in casting spells because they know that by performing a set series of actions they will be able to. If we just told our young pupils 'make a light' they wouldn't have the faintest idea where to begin. No, they need to be told that by using the incantation Lumos and performing a certain wand movement, a light will appear at the end of their wand. In most cases, they will succeed in casting the spell simply because they know that's how it works. In truth, if I have a strong enough vision of what I want to achieve in my mind, and control my magic with sufficient will, I will obtain the same results. Virtually all spells we teach here at Hogwarts are merely shortcuts; guides, if you will, to enable the average witch or wizard to achieve their aim."

"So, if I'm not limited to a set list of spells and incantations, what can I achieve?" Harry asked.

"You are limited only by your own power and imagination, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "Bearing in mind your earlier revelation, I cannot comprehend what you might one day achieve, my boy."

Harry began to feel a strange prickling feeling around his neck and a churning in his stomach. Just what was he capable of? A thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Sir, what exactly is Voldemort able to do? I mean, can he see magic like we can?" he asked.

"I have no definite way of knowing, but I suspect it's possibly, even if he can't harness this energy fully," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "He is enormously powerful, and without doubt has long since left behind him the limitations of relying on pre-formed spells. I suspect he only calls out the incantations of various spells to inform his followers exactly what he's doing. However, Voldemort has by his very nature limited himself. He is governed by hatred and fear. He knows only negative emotions. Quite simply, all he knows how to do is destroy, not create. The stuff we see around us is the building blocks of the universe, the very substance which holds it together. He doesn't know how to use such a thing creatively, and I therefore I doubt he recognises that what he sees is useful."

"That's a big assumption," Harry muttered ominously.

"Nevertheless, I think I have good reason to believe I'm right. After all, if Voldemort really could tap into this power, I rather suspect we would all be dead by now," Dumbledore smiled.

Harry nodded. He couldn't refute logic like that.

"Now, my boy, I think it's time to begin some practical work. What I want you to do is cast a spell, let's say the Lumos Charm as I was talking about it, but not use the proscribed wand movement or incantation. Do you think you can do that, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"I can try," he agreed in a determined voice.

"And that is all we can ever ask for," the old wizard smiled.

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Taking another fork-full of Shepherd's Pie, Harry looked thoughtfully around the Great Hall. He was surprised that so many teachers remained in the castle during the holidays, but the headmaster had informed him that for many of them Hogwarts was not only their place of employment, but their home, too. He noticed Professor Vector looking at him quizzically, and ducked his head.

Lunch had come as a welcome relief to him, as his first training session with Dumbledore had been both exhilarating and frustrating in equal measures. He found himself truly excited by the things he had learnt that morning, things that may well change his life forever. On the other hand, he'd also learnt that after being conditioned to cast spells in a certain way, it was extremely hard to break the habit. The headmaster had assured him that he would get the hang of it… eventually.

"Harry!" a voice called out and he looked up to see his Hermione running towards him. Close on her heels were Ginny, Ron, Neville and Luna.

"How did your lesson with Dumbledore go?" she asked breathlessly. "Did he teach you lots of new spells? Did you learn loads of interesting things? Are you going to show us what he taught you?"

"Merlin, Hermione, give him a break," Ginny scolded her friend.

"Hello to you, too, Hermione," Harry laughed.

"Umm, sorry, I did get a bit carried away, didn't I? But it's only because I'm so excited!" Hermione said, sitting herself down next to him.

"Any more of that Shepherd's Pie going, mate?" Ron asked, eyeing Harry's lunch covetously.

"You've only just eaten back at the Burrow," Hermione said in disbelief.

"There's always room for seconds," he shrugged.

"Ron: the human dustbin," Ginny snorted.

"Anyway, mate, you don't want to get too full up," Harry advised, "there will probably be a bit of running around this afternoon."

"Oh? What have you got planned?" Ginny asked with interest.

"As we've all been getting a bit rusty, I thought a bit of a refresher course might be in order," he informed her. "I've got something worked out that should blow off a few cobwebs and be quite fun, too."

"Aren't you going to pass on whatever instruction the headmaster gave you this morning?" Hermione asked, clearly sounding disappointed.

"It wouldn't really translate. What Professor Dumbledore taught me was quite specific to me. Don't worry, though, I promise to share anything useful with you," he assured her.

Hermione nodded, but didn't look terribly happy.

"I'm really looking forward to this afternoon," Neville announced from his seat across the table from Harry. "Normally, summer holidays can be quite boring for me as Gran always makes me go and stay with my relatives. They're okay, but there's never anyone my own age around."

"How did you convince your gran to let you come here instead?" Ginny asked him.

"I didn't really," he admitted. "I just told her that I would be doing extra work with Harry and she practically pushed me through the door. She thinks a lot of you, Harry."

"We had to tell Mum that this was a kind of punishment for being involved in that mess at the Ministry," Ron admitted.

"Yeah, she thought it was only right and proper that we had to serve detention over the holidays for putting ourselves in danger," Ginny added. "Never mind that we were kidnapped by Umbridge, or that we stopped Voldemort nabbing the prophecy. No, because we didn't get an ADULT'S help we need to punished."

"Daddy's rather busy at the moment, so he was just glad I could be with my friends," Luna said simply.

"I'm glad you're all here," Harry said firmly. "Right, if you're all ready, why don't we head up to the Room of Requirement and get started?"

"So, you're not going to finish that pie, then?" Ron asked, eagerly reaching for Harry's plate. Hermione rapped his knuckles with a spoon.

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"Okay, here's what I've got planned for today," Harry announced as he stepped back and allowed them to see inside the Room of Requirement.

"Blimey, it looks just like Hogsmeade in there," Ron exclaimed as he peered in.

"Exactly. It occurred to me that most of the stuff we practice isn't exactly realistic. Look at what happened back at the Ministry. We spent most of our time running around, darting to and from cover, and looking for hiding places from where we could ambush the Death Eaters or just hide from them. When we train, we tend to do it in a big, open room with no cover. This afternoon we're going to have a practice fight in a realistic location and see how that changes things," Harry told them.

"Actually, that's a really good idea," Hermione admitted. "This will make things much more realistic. It will add extra elements to our training, as well. It won't just be about who the best at duelling is, but who can be the most cunning, too."

"Hey, we might actually stand a chance of beating you for a change, Harry!" Ron said enthusiastically. "So, is this just going to be a free-for-all?"

"I thought we'd split into pairs, initially," Harry suggested. "How about you and Hermione, Neville and Luna, and I'll pair up with Ginny?"

"Yes, that sounds fine," Ron said, a bit too quickly. Harry wasn't totally sure of Ron's motivation in agreeing so quickly, but he assumed the partner he'd assigned to his friend had a lot to do with it. Besides, Ginny seemed more than pleased by the pairings so he chose not to say anything.

They entered the room and closed the door behind them.

"Okay, each pair will have five minutes to get into position before we start. The last pair standing will be the winners. Other than that, anything goes," Harry told them.

"Suits me," Ron nodded.

"Yeah, this should be fun," Neville smiled.

"Right, the five minutes starts now. I'll let off a small bang to let you all know we've begun. Good hunting!" Harry called out, before grabbing Ginny's hand and dragging her through the gap between two houses.

"Okay, what's the plan, boss?" Ginny asked as they ran along.

"Firstly, we get to the far side of the village so we know none of them have got behind us. As I think we'll make the most aggressive of the pairings, I think we should go on the offensive from the off. Do you know how to cast a Disillusion Charm?"

"No, sorry," she replied, her breathing starting to become laboured as they ran.

"No worries, I'll cast it on both of us and then we'll start stalking them. We'll probably need to stay in physical contact so we know where each other are," he told her.

"I don't know, any excuse to hold my hand," Ginny smirked.

"Who said it was your hand I wanted to hold? I can think of much more interesting parts of you to get my hands on," he grinned back at her.

"Harry Potter! I'm shocked at you!" she protested in mock outrage. "Besides, you don't know what bits of you I might grab in return."

"I look forward to finding out," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

For the next few minutes, they concentrated on their running. They soon reached the very edge of the illusionary village and stopped to get their breath.

"Okay, I'm willing to bet that Ron and Hermione will take up an ambush position and stay in one place," Harry reasoned. "I'm not sure what Neville and Luna will do."

"Something unpredictable," Ginny decided. "Luna will look for the unconventional option, such as disguising themselves as letterboxes, or something. They might even try getting up on the roofs of the houses."

"I doubt it, not with Neville's head for heights, although it might not be a bad idea for us to try," Harry said.

"Yeah, shame we didn't bring our brooms with us. Is the five minutes up yet?" she asked eagerly.

"Very nearly," Harry replied after glancing at his watch. "Just another few more seconds…"

As the time ran down, Harry raised his wand and pointed it at a point roughly above the centre of the village. With a subtle flick, he detonated a small explosion in the air which reverberated around the empty streets.

"Let's go," he said to Ginny, before grabbing her hand again and casting the Disillusion Charm on both of them.

"Oh, my hand. How unimaginative," he heard Ginny's disembodied voice chuckle.

"I have to concentrate. Anywhere else would be far too much of a distraction," he teased. "Now, let's focus on beating the others. Where would be the most logical place to stage an ambush?"

"Near the central crossroads," she replied instantly. "You can see right down the main street and the other side roads, too. I think Gladrags or maybe Scrivenshaft's would give you the best view."

"Yeah, you'd definitely have the best field of fire from there," he agreed. "I vote we cross the road by the Post Office and work our way around the back. I suspect Ron and Hermione will pick Scrivenshaft's to base themselves. That place will have great views from the top windows."

"Agreed. Now, hold tightly to Mummy's hand, little boy, we don't want you wandering off now, do we?" Ginny told him in a prim and proper tone of voice.

"I'll give you 'little boy' in a minute," he muttered, and gently pulled her towards the back of the Post Office.

They carefully made their way along the edge of the building, pausing when they reached the edge of the main road. A quick look either way revealed no sign of anyone. In fact, it was strange to see Hogsmeade like this, with not a person in sight. Quickly, the pair of them ran across the road seeking the cover that Honeydukes would give them. They paused to see if they could hear any signs of movement, but everything remaining unnervingly quiet.

After they were sure they hadn't been seen, or more likely heard, they started to make their way back up the village. Harry had never seen the backs of the shops, and was a little surprised to find that they all resembled regular homes, with neatly tended gardens attached. They passed Zonko's and finally arrived at the back of Gladrags. Gently, Harry tried the handle of the back door and was pleased to find it unlocked. He carefully opened it and led Ginny inside.

A quick search of the place revealed it to be unoccupied, not that either of them was surprised. Hermione's sense of logic would have guaranteed that she would have insisted that she and Ron picked the building with the best all-round view. They were headed back to the ground floor, when Harry noticed a side window that opened out directly facing Scrivenshaft's. Although they were both still Disillusioned, there was always a chance someone might notice the blurring effect that came with moving with the charm cast, or even just the door opening. Less chance of hitting a booby-trap this way, too.

"Ginny, if we go out this window, we'll be right outside Scrivenshaft's," he called softly.

"Great, get it open and I'll grab a chair for us to stand on," Ginny replied.

With minimal fuss, they both climbed out the window and found themselves up against the side wall of the quill shop. They began to edge towards the back of the property, and eventually found the rear door. It was locked.

"I bet Hermione will have cast an alarm on this," Harry speculated in a whisper. "If we try an Unlocking Spell, I guarantee we'll alert everyone."

"Through the window again?" Ginny suggested.

"Yeah, good plan," he agreed.

He eventually picked the kitchen window as it was the largest, and managed to get it open without too much trouble. After helping Ginny through, which wasn't easy when they were both invisible, Harry climbed in after her. Stealthily, they began to search the building, their wands held at the ready.

The sound of footsteps from above suddenly alerted them to the fact they were not alone. Straining his ears, Harry was sure he heard Hermione's voice whispering, no doubt an instruction to Ron to keep still. Placing his hand on Ginny's shoulder, they quietly headed up the stairs, pausing only to step over a crude tripwire that had been placed halfway up.

They reached the landing and after a quick search found Ron and Hermione in the front bedroom, peeking out of the window that faced the main crossroads of the village. Harry gently moved Ginny's arm so she was pointing at Hermione, while he took careful aim at Ron's back. He then tapped the fingers of his left hand on Ginny's shoulder – one, two, three times.

As soon as his finger fell for the third time, Harry silently cast a Stunning Spell at his best friend's back. It was joined a split second later by another bright beam of red light, this one aimed at Hermione. They both slumped to the floor, completely unaware that they had been discovered.

"Nice work, Harry," Ginny smiled happily. The Disillusion Charm had fallen the moment they had cast the Stunning Spells, and Harry could see the look of triumph in her eyes.

"Two down, two to go," Harry announced. "Any guesses as to what Neville and Luna will be up to?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I think we're just going to have to try and flush them out. If we keep moving from cover to cover, hopefully we'll draw their fire. There's no point waiting for them to make the first move; Luna's quite capable of sitting in one spot all day."

"And Neville will follow her lead," Harry nodded. "Okay, we'll head out the front door at a sprint. Let's head over the road towards the Hogshead."

They headed back down the stairs and burst out of the front door at speed. Harry was just about half-way across the road when suddenly he felt himself being pushed from behind.

"Down!" Ginny yelled, pulling him to the ground.

A beam of greenish-yellow light shot just over his head. It would have hit him if Ginny hadn't tackled him, Harry realised. He twisted in the general direction the spell had come from and shot off three Stunning Spells in rapid order. Hopefully, they would encourage whoever had shot at them to keep their head down.

"Did you see where the spell came from?" Harry asked.

"Nah, it seemed to come out of thin air! If Neville or Luna were Disillusioned, surely they would have become visible by now," Ginny grumbled.

After climbing to his feet, Harry carefully looked around. There was no sign of life, at all. As Ginny had said, Luna was probably a master at remaining hidden, no doubt in some wacky, off-the-wall, manner, too. Wait a minute! Off-the-wall…

Whipping his arm up without warning, Harry sent another barrage of Stunners across the road, this time aimed at the white-painted wall of Dervish and Banges. He heard a faint cry of 'ooh!' before a blurred object fell to the ground. Almost instantly, something white sprang from the wall and began to run back down the street. Harry saw Ginny tracking the object with her wand, before she let loose a carefully-aimed Petrification Spell. It hit the white blur and it tumbled to the ground.

"Okay, what did I just hit?" Ginny asked in puzzlement.

"Let's go and take a look," Harry suggested.

They walked over to Dervish and Banges and examined the white blob that Harry had hit. On closer inspection, it proved to be Luna, painted white from head to toe.

"Brilliant," Harry laughed. "All they had to do was stand perfectly still in front of that white wall and they would be virtually invisible unless you were stood right next to them."

"How did you even figure out she was there?" Ginny asked.

"I just got lucky," he admitted. "The spell must have come from round there somewhere, so I just shot blindly in the hope of hitting something, and I did."

"Good work, Mr Potter," Ginny grinned at him.

"Excellent work, Miss Weasley," he retorted with a cheeky grin. "We make a good team, you and I."

"Yeah, we do," she replied, looking him directly in the eyes. They stayed there gazing at each other for a few seconds.

"Err, we'd better wake up the others," Ginny said, breaking eye contact first. Harry noted a faint blush on her cheeks.

"I suppose we'd better," he agreed. "Do you think they'll be up for best of three?"

"I bloody hope so," she grinned evilly. "I'm just getting warmed up!"

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Grinning to himself, Harry slipped out of Ron's bedroom unnoticed. Behind him, he could hear his two best friends continuing to argue fiercely. It would probably be some time before they even noticed that he wasn't in the room anymore. This gave Harry the perfect opportunity to seek out a certain young lady whom he had taken a strong interest in.

The past week had flown by, with his days being split between somewhat frustrating lessons with Dumbledore in the mornings, exhilarating mock-fights with his friends in the afternoons, and well-earned evenings of relaxation back at the Burrow. While he was annoyed that he hadn't quite grasped the concepts that his headmaster had tried to impart on him yet, the old wizard had constantly assured Harry that he was doing fine and that such things took time to grasp.

The afternoons and evenings at least allowed him to continue his campaign of winning the heart of Ginny Weasley, although, to be honest, it wasn't taking much effort on his part. Ginny seemed more than willing to spend time with him and responded to his shameless flirting in kind. Still, there was an elephant in the room called Dean, and Harry knew he had to deal with that issue soon. Old Harry might have selflessly stood back and just kept his fingers crossed that the relationship between the two didn't work out. New Harry was determined to stick a huge spanner into that relationship and steal the object of his desire away from his sort-of friend. He really couldn't feel any guilt at his plan, after all, what had Dean ever really done for him? Besides, something told him that this was important. He needed Ginny not just by his side, but in his arms. It was just a feeling, but it continued to nag at him constantly.

He headed out of the backdoor of the Burrow and looked up. The dull weather that had blighted the holidays so far had finally changed and the sun was shining brightly. By mutual agreement, it had been decided that the six teenagers would have the weekends to themselves to prevent burnout and give them some time to enjoy themselves. Harry felt certain that Ginny would be using the opportunity to be outside on such a day as this, and he was proved right. He found her in the garden with her back against a tree and a book in her hands.

"Hey, Ginny," he said as he approached her. "Mind a bit of company?"

She looked up and smiled at the sight of him. "Nah, come and join me," she offered, patting a spot on the grass next to her.

"Thanks, I don't think I could stand to listen to another minute of Hermione and Ron arguing. It was really doing my head in," he said as he flopped down beside her.

Ginny laughed. "I know, it's terrible, isn't it? Do you think those two will ever wise up and just start snogging each other?"

"If they don't I'm going to bloody glue their lips together, if only so we can have five minutes of peace," he replied with a grin.

"Good plan," she laughed. "Just let me know when you plan to do it. I want to get pictures of that!"

"Deal," he promised, letting his eyes drift over her. The warmer weather had encouraged her to break out her shorts, and it gave him the opportunity to admire her firm, shapely legs and creamy skin. Her t-shirt did little to hide her developing chest and Harry found himself becoming distinctly aroused by the sight of her. As stunning as her body was becoming, it was her face that really took his breath away. Her large, brown eyes were still fixed firmly on her book, and Harry thought they were one of her best features, along with her hair. Her hair… long, silky and a fiery shade of red, he longed to run his fingers through it.

"Like what you see, Mr Potter?" Ginny asked, her gaze never once shifting from her book.

"Very much," he smiled. Obviously, he'd been a bit too blatant in his examination of her. She just smirked and continued reading, however. Time to mix things up a bit, he decided.

"So, you and Dean, huh?" he asked casually.

Ginny suddenly stiffened and her eyes became rather unfocused, although she continued to stare at the pages in front of her.

"Um, yeah. He asked me to be his girlfriend a few weeks ago. As term was just finishing, we agreed to get together during the next school year," she replied in a rather forced voice.

"Dean's okay, I guess," Harry nodded, damning his rival with faint praise. "I've never had an issue with him."

"Are you going to give me the big brother speech, just like Ron did?" Ginny demanded angrily, finally looking at him.

"I'm most definitely not your brother," Harry replied, looking her directly in the eyes. She blushed and looked away.

"No, Dean's a really lucky guy to have you as a girlfriend," Harry said casually. "It's not really fair, though."

"What do you mean? What's not fair?" she asked, looking at him again in surprise.

"Well, you. For years you had that massive crush on me, but every time I tried to speak to you, you turned tail and ran. I barely managed to say two words to before last year. Then, you miraculously seemed to lose that crush and started going out with that Corner bloke, and finally you managed to talk to me. This last year I've finally gotten to know you properly, and found out what a great person you are. Honestly, Ginny, you've been wonderful recently, what with helping me speak to Sirius and coming to the Ministry with me. I've really enjoyed spending time with you, as well; you're just so much fun to be with. What disappoints me, though, is now that I've finally gotten to see what a great girl you are, you're not interested in me anymore. That's what I don't think is fair," he explained.

"I…" Ginny began, but seemed lost for words.

"I just wish I'd been able to see a little of the real you while you still had that crush," he lamented.

"So do I," she said quietly.

"Look, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable," he said, climbing to his feet. "I hope you and Dean are happy together, I really do. But if things don't work out between the two of you, will you please keep me in mind? I don't know if you have any feelings for me at all anymore, but if you do and become free in the future, I'm interested."

Ginny stared up at him with wide eyes and her mouth open looking like she'd just received the shock of her life, which maybe she had.

"I hope I haven't embarrassed you, at all," Harry said as he smiled gently at her. "I'll see you later, okay?"

With that, he turned and rapidly began to walk back towards the Burrow. He was halfway to the back door when he heard Ginny call his name. He ignored her and continued walking, closing the door behind him as he entered the building.

Purposely, he made his way up to the bedroom he was staying in and closed the door. Allowing himself a quick grin, he lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. In truth, he was absolutely certain that Ginny still had feelings for him, but had doubted that just blurting out his affection for her would have worked. Ginny was a loyal person who believed in doing the right thing, even at her own expense. Hadn't she insisted she would go to the Yule Ball with Neville even after she found out that she had the chance to go with him? No, just openly trying to break her and Dean up wouldn't work. Harry had to come over as the better man and let Ginny come to him in her own time. Fortunately, he knew she wasn't a girl with much patience.

The sound of the backdoor slamming alerted him to the fact that someone had just entered the house. He then heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

"Five," he began to count. "Four, three, two, one…"

The door to Harry's bedroom flew open revealing a small, angry redhead with a furious expression on her face.

"How bloody dare you say that to me and just walk off, Potter!" she snarled.

"Ginny?" Harry said in mock surprise. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her with what he hoped was an expression of innocence on his face.

"Did you mean it? What you said outside?" she demanded.

"Yes," he replied truthfully. "I think you're wonderful and I'm gutted that you're going out with Dean."

Her expression crumbled and she flopped down onto the corner of his bed.

"Oh, Harry, why couldn't you have told me this last term? I would never have agreed to go out with Dean if I knew you were interested in me," she moaned.

"So, are you still interested, in me, that is?" he asked carefully.

She looked up at him with a steely glint in her eyes. "Yes, Harry, I just never dreamed that you'd feel the same way. You've never exactly shown much interest in me before, have you?"

"As I said, it's only recently that I've gotten to see the real Ginny Weasley," he said reasonably. "I've always liked you, but I admit that before I'd always thought of you just as Ron's younger sister. I think that image started to slip after you verbally smacked me round the head back at Grimmauld Place that time. Actually, now I think about it, after your dad got attacked, I remember you sitting in the dark waiting to hear how he was and thinking how beautiful your eyes were. I loved it when you showed me your sneaky side, too. I would never have figured out how to speak to Sirius without your help, you know. Sharing those Easter eggs with you was fun, as well. But all that time you were going out with Michael Corner, or so I thought, and I only found out that you two had split when you mentioned about starting to see Dean. Besides, I had rather a lot on my mind at the time."

"Yeah, you did, didn't you?" she said sympathetically. "Oh, Harry, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Ginny. I rather think that's your decision to make, isn't it?"

She stood and looked at him uncertainly. "I have to think about this," she told him. "I really need a bit of space to think my way through all this. Can you just give me a bit of time?"

"Of course," he replied automatically. "Take all the time you need."

"Thanks, just don't do anything radical until I get back to you, okay?" she pleaded.

"What, like suddenly start snogging Hermione, or something? I can't really see that happening, Ginny," he replied with a force smile.

She gave a little laugh and turned to go. "I'll speak to you later, Harry," she said and was gone.

Harry lay back on the bed. In truth, he was disappointed by the conversation. He knew that Ginny wanted him, but he was still fearful that her sense of decency who make her fulfil her promise to Dean to be his girlfriend. He didn't think she would do that, but doubts remained.

Sighing disgruntledly, he stared at the ceiling again. Bitterly, he reflected to himself that if Ginny did indeed pick Dean over him, he was going to make his roommate's life a living hell next term.


	5. Chapter 5 – The Rebis Awakens

**Chapter 5 – The Rebis Awakens**

AN

This is by far the fluffiest chapter in the story, so make the most of it while you can. Things will start to get darker soon. The chapter title, by the way, refers to the alchemical process which unities opposing qualities into one. It seemed like a good metaphor for what's going on here.

Huge wobbly thanks to Arnel, as always.

* * *

"Damn it! Why can't I do this?" Harry cursed, nearly throwing his wand away from him in disgust.

"You need to calm yourself, Harry," Dumbledore said benignly. "You'll never achieve anything in this state."

"I know! It's just all so frustrating," Harry snapped, his temper threatening to boil over.

"You do seem a little on edge today. Is anything worrying you, in particular?" the old wizard asked.

Harry looked at him guiltily. In fact, something was getting to him: Ginny. She had yet to speak to him again and had been actively avoiding him for the last couple of days. While he'd told her to take all the time she needed, he hadn't expected the wait to be quite so agonising.

"Just a bit of girl trouble, sir," Harry answered, rather shamefaced.

"Ah, of course, that is not something I have ever had to worry about," Dumbledore chuckled. "I must confess I find the female mind to be completely unfathomable and their actions often rather frustrating. If you would refrain from conveying my opinions to Professor McGonagall, I would be most obliged."

Harry laughed. "It's alright, sir, I happen to share your beliefs."

"I take it you are still having difficulties with young Miss Chang, then?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"Err, no," Harry spluttered. He hadn't been aware that the Headmaster even knew of his brief liaison with the older Asian girl. "I quickly discovered that Cho and I don't really have a lot in common. It petered out pretty quickly between us."

"And now you have your eye on a new young lady?" the old wizard enquired, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Yes, but unfortunately she already has a boyfriend," he admitted.

"Oh, the tangled web that is love. Never mind, my young friend, even if she rejects your advances, there are, I'm reliably informed, always more fish in the sea. As I'm sure Molly Weasley could prepare the said fish exquisitely, perhaps a good supper will do you good."

"Thank you, sir, that's really helpful," Harry said in a sarcastic tone.

Dumbledore laughed. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm really not the person to come to for advice on the female of the species."

"No, I suppose not," Harry agreed. "Can we just get on with this? What am I doing wrong?"

"You're not allowing your imagination to run free," Dumbledore explained. "You must believe in what you're trying to achieve, and then bend your will to the task fully."

"Sorry, sir, but this is really your fault, you know. I've had five years of education here at Hogwarts where every teacher has told me that spells have to be cast in a precise manner. You turning around and telling me that's all nonsense is doing my head in, a bit."

"Yes, I can imagine that it would," Dumbledore nodded. "The simple reason we teach magic in that manner is that most people would be incapable of doing it in any other way. Magic is all about will and intent, and the common witch or wizard just doesn't have the mental strength or power to utilise magic in anything other than rigidly defined forms. We get our pupils to practice incantations and wand movements precisely so that they become confident that if they perform the correct movements and say the right words the desired spell will be produced. It's the fact that they know that those actions will have that particular effect that lets their magic take shape."

"What makes you think I have the mental strength to mould magic as I desire?" he asked. "I'm only an average pupil."

"You do yourself a disservice, Harry. Besides, I have reason to believe that you have never fully applied yourself, have you? No, don't try and deny it; I know it's true," Dumbledore insisted. "It's the times that you do apply yourself that give me confidence in your abilities. To cast a Patronus at only thirteen years of age is unheard of! I see it in your duelling skills, too. You have an instinctual way with magic, my boy, a natural affinity with it. These are precisely the skills you require to succeed here."

Harry just nodded and looked down at the mug he'd be trying to Levitate. Every time he looked at it, he could hear Hermione chanting 'Wingardium Leviosa!' in his head.

Holding his wand out in front of him, but being careful not to move it in any way, Harry started to concentrate on the mug again. In his mind, he pictured the object gracefully rising into the air and hovering there. Unfortunately, the blue and white striped mug stayed resolutely on the table.

"Aaaaggghhh!" Harry yelled in frustration. In his anger, he managed to unleash his magic, but not in the way he intended. The mug shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Hmm, not quite what I had in mind, but it is a start," Dumbledore noted in a calm voice.

"Screw this crap!" Harry yelled, as frustrated by the old wizard's condescending manner as his own failure. Red faced, he turned back to the ruined mug and screamed at it in anger, "Float you useless piece of shit!"

The pieces of the mug did not float, however. Instead, the shards of shattered pottery shot violently into the air at a blinding speed and promptly embedded themselves in the ceiling. Harry stared up at them in shock.

"Ah, that's more like it," Dumbledore chortled.

Harry turned to the smirking old wizard and managed to restrain himself from punching him. "Why did it work that time and not before?" he demanded. "Was it because I was angry?"

"No, my dear boy, it was simply because you applied sufficient will to the task. You may argue that you achieved that level of willpower because you were angry, but the fact remains that was simply a by-product of your rage. You now know the level of mental concentration you need to apply to achieve your goals."

Harry looked up at the ceiling again, as a dim memory began to stir in his head. If he remembered correctly, he'd been working at Borgin and Burkes when he'd made his great breakthrough. He'd been practicing at home one evening after work and…

"Harry, are you alright?" Dumbledore's worried voice asked.

Blinking, Harry turned to look at the old wizard who was staring at him with a concerned look.

"Yeah, I just sort of… zoned out for a moment," he admitted.

"Your mind was certainly somewhere other than here," Dumbledore confirmed softly.

"Sir, I think I can do this," Harry said suddenly. "I think I see how it's done."

Quickly, he turned around and stared up at the ceiling again. It required a gesture, he felt. Some movement to actualize his intent. With his wand in his hand and a determined expression on his face, Harry raised his arms and then thrust them downwards forcefully.

The splintered remains of the mug wrenched themselves from the ceiling and dropped several feet, where they began to hover. With a wave of his arm, the pieces began to spread out and move in a circular motion. Faster and faster they flew, until they formed a spinning circle about two yards wide.

Harry felt the sweat running down his brow. This was undoubtedly the hardest thing he'd ever done, but he was determined he would not fail. Taking a deep breath, he yelled in a commanding voice 'NOW!'"

The circling shards of pottery began to fly faster and faster. Almost imperceptibly at first, the circle contract in on itself as the pieces flew closer and closer together. Then, with one last burst of effort on Harry's part, the shards hurtled together with lightning speed. Suddenly, hanging there in the air, was a blue and white striped mug, completely intact.

Harry let out an explosive breath, and the mug began to tumble towards the floor. With reflex instincts, Harry leapt forward and caught it before it hit the ground. He stared at the mug, now nestling safely in his hands, in pure wonder.

The sound of clapping roused him from his state. "Bravo, Harry, bravo," Dumbledore cheered.

Harry turned and looked at the old wizard, who was still clapping enthusiastically.

"That was a remarkable feat, my dear boy, without specific wand movement or incantation, and combining the effects of various different spells into one!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "I doubt there are a dozen wizards in the entire world who could have done what you just did. Truly remarkable!"

"Maybe, but it's bloody exhausting," Harry mumbled, suddenly feeling like he might keel over. The effort had left him completely shattered.

"Indeed, I can imagine that such a delicate and demanding task would be a massive drain on your magic," the old wizard grinned before spreading his arms out wide. "But tell me, Harry, what is it that you can see all around us?"

Letting his eyes unfocus slightly, Harry began to see the now familiar swirling clouds of colour all around him. Magic surrounded him, and all he had to do now was to learn how to tap into it. A smile came to his lips as he looked at Dumbledore excitedly.

"Yes, Harry, imagine the possibilities," the Headmaster smiled back.

For the first time in a long while, Harry Potter began to have hope for the future.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

That evening, Harry lounged on his bed lethargically. His mind was still full of the revelations of the morning and he'd been struggling to concentrate on anything else all day. Indeed, his afternoon training session with his friends had been something of a disaster as he could barely remember what he'd wanted to do. Hermione had pretty much ended up taking over, much to his relief.

It wasn't helping that Ginny was still keeping her distance from him, a fact that Hermione had also picked up on. She'd tried to corner him about it after dinner, but he'd pleaded exhaustion and retired to bed early, but not before pilfering a couple of bottles of Butterbeer and a slab of Mrs Weasley's home-made fudge to keep him company.

The possibilities that Dumbledore had presented still astounded him. Added to that, Tom's dim memories kept intruding into his brain, half-formed but alluring, nevertheless. He had a clear vision of Tom standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, before confidently leaping forward. He presumed Tom had discovered some method of arresting his fall, but the details maddeningly eluded him. It was all so frustrating.

A soft knocking on his door shook Harry from his thoughts. It first, he assumed it was Hermione come to interrogate him on his behaviour that day, but when the door opened a crack it was Ginny's face that peered in.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" she asked nervously.

"No, not at all!" he replied hurriedly, scrambling to his feet.

Ginny shuffled into the room and closed the door behind her. She gave him an uneasy smile which immediately made Harry nervous. Had she come bearing bad news for him?

"I was wondering if I could borrow Hedwig?" she asked, proffering a letter which he hadn't previously noticed she'd been holding. He looked at her in surprise.

"Yeah, of course," he confirmed. "That's no problem at all. I'm sure she'd love the exercise."

"It's a letter to Dean," Ginny blurted.

Harry felt himself stiffen. Was this Ginny's way of telling him that she'd picked his roommate over him?

"Ginny, what are…" he began before she interrupted him.

"It's telling him I can't be his girlfriend next term," she said quickly.

A wild surge of hope rose within him. "Ginny, are you saying what I hope you're saying?" he asked with trepidation in his voice.

"It wouldn't be fair on him," she clarified, "being with him when I really wanted to be with you. Besides, I'd probably end up always comparing him to you, and poor Dean would come up short, every time. It's better that I stop this sooner rather than later before one of us ends up getting hurt. I… I kept imagining what would happen if I kept my promise to Dean and you went off with some other girl. Seeing you with Cho was bad enough, but if I saw you with someone else knowing that I threw away the chance to be with you, I… I don't think I could have stood that."

Silently, Harry stepped forward and gently retrieved the envelope from Ginny's fingers. He then walked over to the window where Hedwig's perch was located. The bird looked up at him with her golden eyes and immediately stuck out her leg. Harry quickly secured the letter.

"No need to wait for a reply, girl," he whispered to her. Hedwig let out what sounded like an amused bark and launched herself out the window. He turned back to face Ginny, who was regarding him intently. Again, he closed the distance between them.

"Well, as it appears that you no longer have a boyfriend, Miss Weasley, I wonder if you would consider me for that position?" he asked with a slightly roguish smile.

"I'm not sure, after all, I might get a better offer," she replied with slightly forced bravado.

Harry took another step forward so they were practically touching.

"Is there anything I can do to convince you otherwise?" he asked, leaning his head forward.

Ginny visibly swallowed. "Well, you know, you could try kissing me, I suppose," she said, her voice wavering slightly.

Needing no further invitation, Harry lowered his lips onto hers. As he'd spent quite a lot of time in the last week imagining this moment, he'd had the whole thing carefully planned out. His head was tilted at the correct angle to prevent a clash of noses, he was gentle enough so their teeth didn't connect, and he closed his eyes only after he was sure his lips were right on target with hers. At that point, his carefully worked-out plan disintegrated.

His first kiss with Cho had been such a disappointing affair that he hadn't really hoped for more than a slight improvement on it with Ginny. He was therefore completely unprepared for what came next. While there were no exploding fireworks in his head, or earth-moving tremors shaking the room, the whole experience was far better than he was expecting. She was intoxicating! Her lips were soft, slightly moist and utterly delicious. Before he was even aware that he was doing it, he grabbed her and pulled her body close, his lips pressed tightly against hers.

He heard a soft moan come from the small redhead, and it sent shivers down his spine. In fact, he could feel his whole body trembling with passion and desire for her. Surely just a simple kiss couldn't have this much of an effect on him, could it? Apparently, it could.

Eventually, they broke apart, both of them gasping for air. Ginny looked up at him with her brown eyes blazing with an intense look.

"Bloody hell, Potter, where did you learn to kiss like that? Don't tell me I have to send a thank-you letter to bloody Chang, do I?"

Harry laughed. "Trust me, Ginny, I only kissed Cho once and it was absolutely nothing like that!"

"I guess it just proves that you have to find the right person for it to feel right," she told him with a saucy smile.

"I think you're right. But, you know, maybe we should try again. Just to prove the first time wasn't a fluke, of course," he suggested, matching her grin.

He felt her fingers starting to run through his hair and pulling his head down to hers.

"You can't be too careful, now, can you?" she agreed.

It was with the greatest delight that Harry discovered that it hadn't been a fluke. Neither was the third kiss, nor the fourth…

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It was an extremely chipper Harry Potter who made his way down to breakfast the next morning. As was usual for that time of day, the only occupants of the kitchen were Mrs Weasley and Hermione. Mr Weasley had probably already left for the Ministry and neither Ginny nor Ron were likely to show their faces yet.

Mrs Weasley turned from the stove at the sound of his arrival and offered him a pleasant smile.

"Morning, Harry dear. Are hungry?" she asked.

"Good morning to you, Mrs W!" Harry replied in a cheery voice. "I'm positively famished."

"Well, sit yourself down and I'll bring you a nice big breakfast. It must be hungry work taking all those extra lessons."

Harry voiced his thanks and took a seat next to his bushy-haired friend, who was eyeing him suspiciously.

"Morning, Hermione," he beamed, "how are you today?"

"I'm very well, thank you, Harry," she replied in a level voice. She placed the book she'd been reading face down on the table and looked at him intently. "You certainly seem very cheerful today."

"And why not? It's a beautiful day, I'm about to have what I expect will be a delicious breakfast courtesy of Mrs Weasley, and then I'll be learning amazing magic from one of the greatest wizards ever to set foot on this earth. What's not to be cheerful about?"

"Nice to hear you so positive, dear. Here's you breakfast," Mrs Weasley said, placing a large plate positively groaning with food in front of him.

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley!" Harry exclaimed, grabbing a knife and fork and tucking in immediately.

The Weasley matriarch smiled at him fondly. "Now, I just have to hang some washing out, so if Ron or Ginny come down can you tell them that their breakfast is keeping warm on the stove? They just need to serve themselves. Oh, and if Ron comes down first, make sure you tell him that he's to leave enough for his sister. Tell him I'll be very cross with him if he doesn't."

And with that, Molly Weasley picked up a basket overflowing with white bed sheets and hurried out the door. Hermione instant turned on Harry.

"Okay, what happened last night?" she demanded.

Harry nearly choked on a sausage. "What do you mean?" he spluttered.

"You, Harry Potter, have been grumpy and out-of-sorts for the last few days. I've barely been able to get a civil word out of you in all that time. Yet this morning, mere hours after you slouched off to bed claiming to be exhausted, you're bright as a button and positively bouncing with happiness. I've known you long enough, Harry, to know that you do not bounce!"

"I've bounced a few times when I've fallen off my broom," he joked lamely.

"Answer the question," she said firmly.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Harry bluffed. "I just had a really good night's sleep and woke up feeling refreshed, that's all."

Hermione continued to glare at him for a moment, before a smile suddenly appeared on her face. From experience, Harry knew that smile never meant anything good for him.

"So, since you're feeling so positive this morning, how do you feel about making a little wager?" Hermione asked in a silky voice.

"Wager? What sort of wager?" he asked in surprise.

"I'll wager you that pretty soon Ginny Weasley will come down those stairs in an equally good mood as yours. I also bet that she'll sit down in that empty chair right next to you!" she said triumphantly.

Harry nearly dropped his knife and fork. How the hell did she do it?

"How should I know what kind of mood Ginny will be in?" he argued. "Besides, she lives here; she can sit in any chair she likes."

"Really, despite apparently taking great pains to stay as far away as possible from you over the last few days?" Hermione countered.

"I don't know what you mean," he denied, even if he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was wasting his time trying to hide anything from his friend.

"Oh, I think you do. Let me present my evidence: for the last few days you've been in a terrible mood. You've been moping around this house in a dreadful sulk. I know you've had a rough time of things lately and I appreciate that you had every justification for acting like that, but the fact remains that you were fine when you first arrived here, in a much better state than we were expecting, actually. The only thing that has changed recently has been that Ginny has been avoiding you, which was strange as before that you two were openly flirting with each other. And don't think I missed you making those cow-eyes at her yesterday, despite obviously being distracted about something that happened in your class with Dumbledore, which you will also be telling me about later, by the way. So, spill the beans: what happened last night."

Harry looked at her in frustration while pondering whether to admit everything or try and bluff it out. He was saved from answering by the arrival in the kitchen of another Weasley.

"Morning, Hermione! Morning, Harry! It looks like it's going to be a beautiful day out there, doesn't it?" Ginny greeted them, a brilliant smile on her lips. Hermione turned to Harry with a smug expression on her face.

"Your mum said to help yourself to breakfast," Harry told Ginny in a resigned voice. Ginny gave him a quick look, before heading over to the kitchen counter and retrieving a plate. Once she'd filled it from the various pans on the stove, she came over and took the chair next to Harry.

"Checkmate to Granger!" Hermione cried happily.

"Err, what's going on?" Ginny asked in confusion.

Harry turned to her. "Ginny, you know that bit of information that we were talking about last night, the one we were going to keep secret for a while? Well, Miss Smarty-Pants here has already guessed."

"What? What did you say to her?" Ginny demanded.

"I made the simple mistake of being too cheerful when I came down to breakfast. Just like you did, in fact," he replied in a level tone.

"So Harry finally noticed you're a girl, did he?" Hermione asked the redhead. "What about Dean, then?"

"I wrote to Dean and told him I'd changed my mind," Ginny admitted.

"Okay, that's understandable. What I don't understand is why you're trying to keep this secret?" Hermione asked in puzzlement.

Ginny snorted. "Imagine what my mum would be like if she knew that Harry had just become my boyfriend! Oh, she'd be delighted at first, but then would spend every available minute she had watching us like hawks! I'd be lucky if Harry got to hold my hand occasionally, let alone give me a good snogging."

"I'm a bit worried about Ron, too," Harry admitted. "I know he said he wanted to see me and Ginny together, but I guarantee now I've snatched her away from Dean, his big brother instincts will begin to cut in. I don't doubt he'd start roping in his elder brothers, as well!"

"Ah, yes, maybe keeping this quiet would be a good idea," Hermione admitted, "but you can't hide forever. Once we get back to Hogwarts next term it's all bound to come out."

"Probably, but Mum won't be in a position to do anything about it, then, will she?" Ginny said smugly. "Not to mention Ron won't be able to call on my brothers to help him."

"Yeah, and we were planning on providing Ron with a distraction, anyway, so he isn't in our hair all the time," Harry added.

"What distraction?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Oh, we thought we'd get him a girlfriend," Harry said with exaggerated casualness.

The expression on Hermione's face froze and she looked like she'd just been hit over the head by one of Molly's frying pans. Harry caught Ginny's eye and noted the wicked gleam of amusement there.

"Girlfriend? What girl would be interested in him?" Hermione asked sharply, sounding deeply offended.

"Actually, I was going to put you forward for the role," Harry smirked.

"ME?" she shrieked.

"Yeah, give it up, Granger!" Ginny laughed. "You've admitted you like Ron to me one too many times, remember? Well, your fairy godmother Gin-Gin, and your hairy godfather Harry, are here to make your dreams come true!"

"I won't be party to this," Hermione announced, crossing her arms angrily. "If Ron has to be coerced into having a relationship with me, then I'm not interested. If he hasn't got the courage or the desire to tell me how he feels, then he can get lost!"

"What, you mean just like you have with him?" Harry asked innocently.

There weren't many times he could remember Hermione being lost for words, but he was delighted to see this was one of them.

"Relax, Hermione," he assured her. "All we're going to do is point out a few home truths to Ron. He'll come to you himself, I promise."

"How can you be so sure?" Hermione asked, looking genuinely worried.

"Hey, I've been his best mate for the last five years. I'm pretty sure I know how he thinks by now!" Harry snorted. "It also so happens that I have recently obtained a beautiful girlfriend, who, apart from being ravishingly gorgeous, is also extremely devious, as demonstrated by the fact that she's had her six older brothers wrapped around her little finger for years. Dealing with Ron will be child's play for her."

Ginny stood and performed an elegant curtsy.

"Are you sure about this?" Hermione asked nervously. "If Ron thinks he's being pressured into something, you know that he'll…"

"Relax, it will all be fine," Ginny interrupted her friend. "We'll be subtle, I promise."

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs interrupted further conversation. A sleepy looking Ron entered the kitchen a few seconds later and look around blearily.

"Where's Mum?" he asked indignantly. "I haven't missed breakfast, have I?"

"It's on the stove, mate," Harry offered.

"What, I have to get it myself?" Ron moaned.

"Yeah, a real catch, that one," Ginny muttered quietly, which set them all off giggling.

Ron scowled. He'd only been up five minutes and his friends and family were already taking the piss out of him. Maybe he should have stayed in bed?

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"What do you have planned for us today, then, Harry?" Neville asked as made their way to the Room of Requirement that afternoon.

"Yes, I'll be interested to see what you've arranged now you're no longer affected by the Nargles," Luna added.

Harry smirked at her. "Yeah, pesky things those Nargles, aren't they? Actually, though, I don't have anything planned for today, simply because Professor Dumbledore told me he was arranging for someone to come and teach us something useful."

"Who's coming to teach us?" Hermione asked instantly.

"I've no idea, but as he assured me that whoever is coming isn't named Snape, Umbridge or Lockhart, I'm pretty sure it will be fine," he replied.

"Oh, Hermione! It won't be the lovely Mr Lockhart! I bet you're so disappointed," Ginny teased.

"Careful, Ginny, remember I know secrets about you," the older girl warned.

"What secrets?" Ron asked curiously.

"If I told you, they'd hardly be secrets now, would they?" Hermione said in an only slightly condescending tone.

"I only asked," he replied defensively. "So, you didn't get any hints what we'd be learning today, then, Harry?"

"Nope, and I didn't ask. I thought it would be a pleasant surprise for us all," Harry grinned cheerfully.

"Has my mum been slipping you a Happy Potion?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"No, he's probably just pleased to have rid himself of that Nargle infection," Luna insisted. "You can tell it cleared up nicely as he's displaying all the symptoms of someone who's recently found a cure: extreme happiness, longing looks at certain females, swollen lips…"

There were entirely too many clever young women around here, Harry decided.

"Yes, well, let's all just go in and find out who will be teaching us today, shall we?" Ginny suggested quickly.

The six of them entered the already created room and were rather shocked to find Professor McGonagall, sitting on a straight-backed chair waiting for them patiently. She offered them a small smile as they entered.

"Well, that's me wrong," Harry announced loudly, "my money was on Mad-Eye Moody. Afternoon, Professor! It's nice to see you."

"And you, Mr Potter," the stern witch replied with a slight nod of her head. "I'm most gratified that so many of my Lions are taking the opportunity to further their education, despite it being the school holidays. Naturally I'm pleased to see you here, too, Miss Lovegood."

"I'm very pleased to be here. Going on holiday with Daddy is all very nice, but he does have a tendency to forget I'm there and just wander off. It's so much nicer to be here with my friends," Luna said happily.

"Having met your father several times, I'm not in the least surprised to hear that," McGonagall said in a disapproving tone.

"So what will you be teaching us, Professor?" Hermione asked eagerly. "Advanced Transformations?"

"No, Miss Granger, I'm here to teach you all to Apparate," she replied.

"Apparition?" Hermione gasped. "But I didn't think that we could learn that until we were of age. I mean, I won't even turn seventeen until September!"

"While it is true that you cannot obtain a licence to Apparate until you are of age, there are no restrictions to you learning the practice in a carefully controlled environment. The headmaster felt that it was a necessary skill that you should all learn. Better to invoke the displeasure of the Ministry by Apparating under-age than finding yourself trapped by Death Eaters, don't you think?"

"Absolutely, Professor!" Harry agreed fervently. This was exactly the kind of thing he'd been hoping that they would be taught.

"I'm glad you approve, Mr Potter," McGonagall noted with slight amusement in her voice. "Now, if no one else has any objections, we'll begin. Firstly, I want everyone in a semi-circle around me. Yes, do hurry up, Mr Longbottom. Excellent. Now, the three basic principles of Apparation are destination, determination and deliberation. These principals are very important and…"

Harry listened his Head of House intently. This was one skill he was determined all his friends would learn and learn well. Never again would they be trapped with no ready means of escape.

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"Wasn't that a great class?" Ron asked happily as they headed back to the Burrow some time later. "I mean, I know it will be weeks before we're actually able to Apparate, but what a great thing to learn! All our classmates will be dead jealous."

"We're not learning this so we can boast about it, Ron! These lessons could save our lives, remember," Hermione scolded him.

"Blimey, I can't open my mouth anymore," he grumbled.

They'd said farewell to Neville and Luna before heading home for the evening. Harry was pleased to see that the weather was still warm and the four of them could enjoy being outside for a while.

"We still have half an hour before dinner," he noted, "what do you guys want to do?"

"I'm going inside to read up on Apparation," Hermione declared instantly. "I'm sure I could have done much better this afternoon if I'd had some time to prepare."

"I'm not sure you're supposed to prepare. I've always been told that learning this stuff should only be done in the presence of a fully qualified adult," Ginny pointed out.

"That's quite right, but I only want to study the theory behind it," Hermione replied, already heading towards the house. "I'll see you all at dinner."

"Barmy," Ron muttered as he watched her disappear into the Burrow.

"She just likes to learn. Would you want her any other way?" Harry asked his friend with a knowing smile.

"Well… I guess not. I mean, she's great at helping us with our lessons, isn't she?" Ron mused, oblivious to the sight of his sister rolling her eyes at him.

"So, now there are just three of us, what do you want to do?" Harry asked again.

"A quick game of Quidditch?" Ron suggested.

"There are three of us, and by the time we get all the kit out, it will be time for us to put it away again," Ginny said with a note of sarcasm in her voice.

"Let's just sit down somewhere in the sun," Harry said quickly, hoping to prevent the siblings from squabbling. "I've been stuck inside all day and just want some fresh air."

"Okay, we could sit down by the river. We'll be able to hear Mum when she calls us to dinner from there," Ginny agreed. "I know Ron won't want to be late for that!"

Ron scowled at his sister for a moment, before his expression suddenly changed and a smirk appeared on his face.

"So, Hermione tells me you've changed your mind about Dean," he began smugly.

"Yes, and it has nothing to do with your moaning, Ronald!" Ginny said sharply. "I just decided that the two of us wouldn't make a good couple. A girl can change her mind, can't she?"

"Just as well," Ron sniffed, before flopping down onto the grass at the edge of the river. Harry sat down rather more carefully next to his friend, with Ginny sitting the other side of him. He looked around him at the rolling countryside.

It wasn't five o'clock yet and the summer sun was still high in the sky, with only the occasional slow-moving white cloud to obscure it. The River Otter flowed lazily before him, its crystal clear waters revealing great clumps of long water weeds all rippling in the current. He had the sudden urge to remove his socks and shoes and dip his toes into the cool water, but right at that exact moment it seemed like too much effort. Still, he thought, while he had Ron separated from Hermione for the moment, it would be the perfect time to put his plan into action. He glanced surreptitiously at Ginny, who winked at him.

"So, Harry," she began carefully, "did you hear that Ernie Macmillan has split up with Hannah Abbott? It's a real surprise, that!"

"Yeah, those two always seemed so close," Harry agreed with a slight smile.

"Why are you interested?" Ron asked suspiciously. "Is he your next target?"

"Oh, no! He's not my type, at all," Ginny said quickly. "In fact, I was thinking he'd make a good match for Hermione."

"Hermione? Why would that git be a good match for her?" Ron replied indignantly.

"I dunno, he's pretty smart. He'd probably have a lot to talk about with her," Harry pointed out.

"Very good manners, too. Hermione always appreciates that," Ginny added.

"He's a Hufflepuff," Ron said firmly. "Hermione wouldn't be interested in a Hufflepuff. Besides, he's a pompous berk."

"What's wrong with Hufflepuffs?" Harry asked in genuine surprise. "Susan Bones is a 'Puff and I bet you wouldn't turn her down if she asked you out on a date."

"Well, no, but, you know… she's a girl," Ron said lamely, obviously not sure where he was taking his argument.

"So, it would be okay for Hermione to date a Hufflepuff… as long as it was a girl?" Ginny asked in disbelief.

"Okay, I haven't really thought that through, but it doesn't change the fact that Macmillan is a git. Why would Hermione need a boyfriend, anyway?" Ron demanded.

"What, haven't you noticed how tetchy she's been lately? I think she's pining for a bit of intimate male company," Harry said with conviction.

"Yeah, she hasn't been on a nice date since she went out with Viktor," Ginny agreed, no doubt knowing that it would needle her bother. "I expect she's dying for a good snog."

"Hermione?" Ron said in an appalled voice. "She wouldn't, would she?"

"I thought we'd previously established Hermione was a girl," Harry said dryly. "Like any girl, she has needs, you know."

"Hermione?" Ron repeated, sounding sick.

"Perhaps you should satisfy those needs, Harry?" Ginny suggested in a sly voice. "I mean, you two get on so well."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Ron stiffen like he'd just been shot. Time to deliver the coup de grâce.

"Nah, Hermione's more like a sister to me. Just imagine how you'd feel if Ron here stuck his tongue down your throat?"

"Ugh, Harry, that's revolting!" Ginny protested, but Harry couldn't help but notice a slight look of relief on Ron's face.

"So, if Ernie isn't a candidate, and I'm not inclined, can we think of anyone else we can set her up with?" Harry asked innocently.

"Hmm, it would need to be someone loyal, who really likes her and would stand by her all the time. I mean, being Muggleborn she gets grief from the Slytherins all the time. She needs someone who'd be brave enough to stand up for her," Ginny pondered.

"I always stand up for her," Ron said quietly.

"Yeah, and, while I love her to bits, she can be a bit hard to get along with, sometimes. We'd need someone who'd be happy to spend a lot of time with her," Harry pointed out.

"I spend pretty much the entire day with her," Ron said quietly.

"She's not the type of girl to put on airs and graces, either," Ginny continued. "You'd need a boy who doesn't mind that she doesn't wear loads of makeup or sexy clothing. Someone who appreciates her just as she is."

"I think she looks great all the time," Ron said quietly.

"Hmm, that's a tall order to fill," Harry noted. "I hope we can find someone like that, otherwise Hermione might just end up going off some bloke who wouldn't suit her."

"Okay, you gits, I get the message! There's no need to ram it down my throat," Ron yelled, not so quietly.

"Oh, the Knut's dropped at last, has it?" Ginny laughed. "Well, I'm glad we finally got through to you. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm not going to do anything about it," Ron replied angrily. "Hermione would never like me in that way. I'm just her friend. I'm not good enough for her to be anything else."

"That's funny, because I seem to remember a certain young witch of our acquaintance getting extremely angry after the Yule Ball because a certain young wizard failed to ask her to go with him until the very last minute, by which time she'd already accepted another offer. What was it she said? 'Next time ask me before someone else does?' Something like that, wasn't it, Ginny?"

"Definitely something like that," Ginny nodded. "I think if that young wizard had asked her straight away she wouldn't have looked twice at Viktor Krum."

"But all we do is argue all the time," Ron protested. "She can't like me."

"Maybe she's just trying to get you to fulfil your true potential," Harry pointed out. "Maybe she thinks you're worth investing some time and effort in."

"But… I wouldn't know where to start with her," Ron said miserably. "Everything I say to her always comes out wrong."

"Ron, just try being nice to her," Ginny suggested. "Don't overdo it, but just occasionally tell her that you think she's looking pretty today, or that she did really well in a test, or something."

"But I always think those things," Ron said.

"Maybe, but you have to tell her that. She's not a mind reader, you know," his sister explained gently.

"You just need to flirt with her, a bit," Harry agreed. "You know, not too much, because that's not her way, but just enough to let her know that you like her and you're interested."

"Really?" Ron asked, sounding unconvinced.

"Really," Harry insisted. "In fact, I suggest that you go back inside and find her. Just tell her that you'd rather sit and talk with her than stay out here with us. It lets her know who you'd rather be with."

"Just talk to her about the lesson today, and genuinely listen to what she has to say," Ginny added. "Hermione's the type of girl who gets upset if she thinks you're not taking her seriously."

"I'd never do that," Ron said earnestly.

"So? Where's you Gryffindor courage? Are you going to go inside and be nice to Hermione Granger, or are you going to hide out here with your tail between your legs?" Harry demanded.

Ron climbed to his feet. "You can go too far with all that Gryffindor imagery, you know," he said, before he turned and purposefully start to walk back to the Burrow.

"Oh, that was too easy!" Ginny laughed as soon as he was out of earshot.

"Don't jinx it, Ron's quite capable of taking our simple instructions and mucking them up completely. He gets a bit confused around Hermione, after all," Harry grinned.

"Very true," Ginny nodded before smiling seductively at him. "Well, Mr Potter, as you seem to have cunningly gotten rid of my protective big brother, and we're all alone out here, what shall we do now?"

"Oh, I can think of something," he agreed, slipping his arms around her and pressing his lips to hers.

The long grass around the water's edge blocked them from view perfectly, and they were blissfully undisturbed until Mrs Weasley called them in for dinner some time later.

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The door of ice cream parlour opened with the sound of a jangling bell.

"Sorry, we're closed," Florean Fortescue called, his attention firmly on counting the day's takings. It was past six o'clock and he'd already turned the shop's sign to read 'closed' half an hour ago. He simply must have forgotten to lock the door, he assumed.

Realising that he had yet to hear whoever it was that had entered his shop leave, he looked up and gasped. In front of him stood a fairly short man, with receding brown hair and a rather portly build. He was dressed in a neat, if rather uninspiring, tweed suit with a drab grey tie. He looked at Florean with a gentle smile.

"Hello, Florean, my old friend," the man said in a surprisingly melodious voice.

Florean abandoned his day's takings and walked shakily towards the man. When he was a few feet away from him, Florean dropped to his knees.

"Master!" he cried, looking up in wonder.

"Florean, really, please get up! Why you always feel the need to indulge in that ridiculous behaviour is a mystery to me," the man said kindly.

Fortescue climbed to his feet. "But what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Can't I visit an old friend? Although, if you have any raspberry-ripple flavoured ice cream left, a small bowl would be most acceptable about now."

Florean laughed nervously. "I'll see what I can do," he replied and walked back behind the counter. A few moments later, he re-emerged with a bowl of ice cream and a spoon which he handed to the man.

"Quite delicious," was the verdict after the man had taken his first taste. "I should have guessed you would end up in this line of work. You always had a sweet tooth and loved nothing more than making people happy. This is the perfect job for you."

"It is indeed," Florean agreed, before his smile faded. "By your appearance here, am I to understand that my time here is now at an end?"

"Quite so, my dear friend. A wonderful opportunity has presented itself and we must seek pastures new."

Fortescue frowned. "Who is the conduit?"

The man looked up from his ice cream. "Harry Potter," he replied simply.

"Young Harry?" Florean gasped. "But I know the lad! He's powerful, I'll grant you that, and I even wondered about him for a while, but I can't believe it could possibly be him!"

"The situation has changed somewhat, as has Mr Potter. He has, by pure chance, embraced both sides of his persona. Joined with his collective shadow, if you will. He has also finally accepted his soul-image and will join with her soon, I suspect. He has the potential to become perfectly balanced: the fulcrum point of humanity, as it were."

Florean looked at the man in confusion. "And where will he lead us?" he asked.

"Ah, that has yet to be determined," the man smiled.

With a nod, Florean turned and looked around his little shop sadly. "I suppose I'm leaving here now?"

"Yes, go and pack your things. Just a few changes of clothes and some toiletries will suffice."

"I'll miss this place," Florean confessed.

"It's a good place, but if all goes well, we're destined to find somewhere better."

Some twenty minutes later, Florean left the ice cream parlour that he'd spent years building up without a backward glance. The day's takings were left on the counter, forgotten.


	6. Chapter 6 – Magick Moste Evile

**Chapter 6 – Magick Moste Evile**

We're still in fairly fluffy territory with this chapter, and I should probably throw out a Naughtiness! Warning for the scene in the orchard. You may think I'm heating up Harry and Ginny's relationship a bit quickly here, but I do have a reason for it, which will become apparent in a few chapters.

Immense thanks to Arnel for weeding out my stupid mistakes, as always.

* * *

Harry leapt over a low wall and sprinted towards the back door of the house. He paused as he reached the comparative safety of the back of the house and looked around desperately. All clear.

He knew he had to keep moving. If he stayed one place he would be found in minutes. As if in confirmation of his thoughts, a sickly green light suddenly impacted against the windowsill next to him. Gasping in shock, Harry sprang forward with all the strength his legs could muster and powered onward. A wooden fence barred his way, but he just dived head-first over it. Fortunately, he managed to roll on landing so he didn't hurt himself and quickly found his feet. Without a backward glance, he ran as fast as he could across the road and sought cover between two shops. Only then did he pause to look back.

The familiar streets of Hogsmeade were eerily quiet and no movement could be seen. By this point, Harry knew better than to assume this meant he was safe. He turned and continued down the gap between the two shops and emerged into an open space that he soon realised offered very little cover. Shit!

He looked around and saw that he'd effectively run into a dead end. The Room of Requirement's representation of Hogsmeade ended abruptly beyond the buildings that he was standing in front of, and the walls of houses blocked movement left or right. Going back the way he came would be suicide, he knew.

If there was one thing that Dumbledore had been trying to drum into him over the last couple of weeks, it was to let his imagination run free. He'd told Harry on numerous occasions that he shouldn't let his mind be constricted by the walls of conventional thinking, and that's what he needed to do now. So his progress was impeded by a brick wall? Simple, get rid of the wall! With a quick wave of his wand, Harry Vanished a large chunk of the nearest wall and hurried through. He found himself in what appeared to be the living room of the house, with a door leading to the hallway directly in front of him. Pausing only to replace the missing section of wall, Harry ran out of the room and was pleased to see the hall led directly to the front door of the house.

Opening it cautiously, he peered out and found the street deserted. He stepped out into the house's small front garden, and tried to decide which way to go next. He had just decided to head back towards the Shrieking Shack, when he felt something brush against his leg. Looking down, he saw to his horror that a neat little rosebush that had been planted in the garden had somehow mutated and its branches were wrapping themselves around him. He tried to point his wand at the attacking plant, but it managed to get its thorny stems around his arm before he could manage it. A moment later, a bolt of horribly familiar green light struck him in the chest, blasting him backwards.

"Oh, yuck!" he groaned as he attempted to wipe the sticky green gloop off his face, which was proving difficult with the rosebush still wrapped around him. A soft chuckle made him turn his head and he saw Dumbledore walking towards him with an amused expression on his face.

"How long this time?" Harry asked irritably.

Dumbledore reached into his robes and produced a pocket watch. "Nearly eleven minutes, Harry," he said cheerfully. "That's nearly two whole minutes longer than your previous best. Well done!"

"Yeah, thanks," Harry replied with poor grace. "Can you get this bloody rosebush off me, please?"

Dumbledore waved his wand casually and the bush immediately began to shrink back to its normal size and shape. He made no effort, however, to clear the sticky green substance which they used to simulate a hit by a Killing Curse off of him. Harry had long since learnt that Dumbledore believed that leaving him in that mess was in some way educational.

"So, what did you learn from today's exercise?" the old man asked.

"Well, movement is really important, but I knew that before," Harry pondered. All attempts in previous exercises to simply hide from the old man had proved futile. "Vanishing a section of wall to move through seemed to work quite well, although you seemed to know exactly where I would emerge."

"Pure luck, I must confess," Dumbledore admitted. "I just happen to be coming down the street when you emerged. Remember, Harry, your foes will often Disillusion themselves when moving across open ground."

"So I should have cast some sort of Detection Spell before leaving the safety of the house?" Harry asked.

"Quite so, although in all other respects your tactics were quite sound. Was there anything else you would have done differently?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm not sure what I could have done about it, but it did strike me as to how easy it was to render me helpless just by holding my wand arm," Harry said. "I mean, as soon as that branch wrapped itself around my arm, I was done for."

"Being ambidextrous helps, of course," the old man pointed out, "but the only true guarantee you have of not being caught in that manner is learning how to cast spells wandlessly. That, however, is an extremely challenging ability."

"But why?" Harry demanded. "You're always telling me not to limit myself, and I've been trying to draw on the magical energy all around us, so why am I limited to channelling my spells through this little piece of wood?"

"I would firstly point out that you are not exclusively tied to casting spells with a wand, many other objects can perform a similar function. There was a wizard who lived around three hundred years ago that wore a ring in which he had placed a core similar to that which you would find in a wand, and this worked extremely well for him. Likewise, in the distant past staffs, not wands, were more common. No, it's simply that a wand is the optimum device for casting magic. But as to why we require to use an object in the first place, that's a little more complicated."

Dumbledore lowered himself to the ground and sat contentedly on the grass.

"As you quite rightly pointed out, magical energy is all around us and, indeed, runs through us. It is, however, like an ocean: vast and constantly in motion. While we witches and wizards can utilise that energy, it is extremely hard for even the most skilful of us to simply gather that power and direct it without help. Imagine trying to gather a large quantity of water, for instance; you can probably only hold a single handful at a time. The core of our wands, be it whatever material they are made from, allows us to focus that energy so we can direct it into whatever form we so choose. That phoenix feather in your wand, Harry, is, for want of a better description, like a bucket to hold that magical energy so you can use it."

"So, the average witch or wizard can't hold magic inside them? They have to use something with a core?" Harry asked.

"Indeed. There have been a few individuals with that capacity throughout history, but they are rare indeed. Even Merlin himself generally required a staff to cast his more potent spells, and he was widely regarded as the finest practitioner of wandless magic the world has ever seen."

Harry frowned. "What about accidental magic, then?" he argued. "Children who do that don't have a wand, do they?"

"Ah, but that magic is formless and without control," Dumbledore pointed out. "In most cases, the child is simply gathering whatever magical energy is around them and unleashing, generally with unknown results. I concede that if the child is threatened it is more likely that the magic will be utilised in a more useful form, such as cushioning a fall, or whisking the child away from the danger, but this is an unconscious act and not one that can be easily duplicated in normal circumstances."

"I guess that's right," Harry agreed. "I remember when I was attacked by those Dementors last year I managed to Summon my wand to me after I dropped it. I guess that counts as being threatened."

Dumbledore stared at him. "Really?" he said, sounding surprised. "You managed to Summon your wand?"

"Yeah, Dudley had managed to knock it out of my hand, the fat idiot," Harry said, frowning at the memory. "He nearly managed to get us both killed."

"I must confess, this is most interesting," Dumbledore said, looking thoughtful. "Children are able to cast Accidental Magic simply because they don't know any different. Once someone has started casting spells deliberately using a wand, it becomes extremely rare for them to be able to do it any other way."

"Really?" Harry said. Desperately, he tried to remember if Tom had ever been able to cast magic without his wand, but couldn't think of any instance when he had.

"Indeed, Harry. I do wonder if this capability of yours is somehow linked to your ability to see magic. As I said, the human body is simply not equipped to store this kind of energy, so I'm thinking that you somehow were able to gather the magical energy around you and utilised it that way. How you succeeded in moulding that power and giving it form, in this case as a Summoning Spell, is something of a mystery to me. I, certainly, would be incapable of performing such a feat."

Letting his eyes unfocus slightly, Harry began to concentrate on the swirling clouds of magical energy that he normally ignored. Try as he might, he couldn't see how he could directly use that energy, other than through his wand. There just didn't seem to be anything substantive to latch onto.

"No luck?" Dumbledore asked, guessing what Harry was doing.

"No, sir, there's just nothing to get a hold of, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, that's the real problem," Dumbledore nodded. "Still, this might be something you should consider practicing with in your spare time. If anyone can do it, Harry, I suspect it will probably be you. Now, as we have some time before lunch, why don't we run through the exercise again?"

With a sigh, Harry climbed to his feet. Maybe this time he could last a whole quarter of an hour before he was killed.

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"I wonder where Ron and Hermione went," Harry pondered lazily, his arms wrapped around his petite girlfriend as they lay together in the long grass by the orchard.

"No idea. They're probably doing what we're doing," Ginny replied, stretching her neck slightly so she could claim another kiss.

Harry eagerly reciprocated. He couldn't believe how much happier he felt since he and Ginny had hooked up. Somehow, he just felt more positive about everything, and certainly more hopeful about the future. It was like the small redhead had managed to knock all the negativity out of him. Well, maybe she'd kissed the negativity out of him, anyway.

"Mmm, yum! You, Mr Potter, are a great kisser, you know that, don't you?" Ginny grinned.

"I'm certainly getting enough practice, for which I'm extremely grateful, I should add," he replied, hugging her tightly.

She beamed warmly at him for a moment, before the smile faded from her lips. "Harry, this isn't just a summer fling, is it? You… you do really want to be with me, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" he replied immediately, shocked that she would even think such a thing. "It would break my heart if we ever split up. Why are you asking? Did someone say something?"

"No, it's not that," she said hesitantly. "It's just… the last couple weeks have been a dream come true for me. I always imagined what it would be like if we were together, and reality has turned out to be even better than I expected. If… if this ended suddenly, I just don't know what I would do."

Harry stroked her cheek. "You'd pick yourself up and carry on, simply because you're too strong to do anything else. I'm not saying that because I want us to split up anytime, but just because I believe that nothing could ever break you. You've already proved to me how strong a person you are, and you've made me stronger just by being with you."

"I'd like to believe that, just because I hate feeling weak," she admitted. "I was weak once, and look how that turned out. I vowed I'd never let myself be used like that again. But when it comes to you, Harry, it's like I have no defences. You could ask me to do anything and I don't think I could say no."

"Really? Anything?" he smirked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Anything," she repeated, and Harry felt the smile slide off his face. She was serious.

"Ginny, I hope I'd never ask you to do anything you'd be uncomfortable with, but please bear in mind that I'm a teenage boy with a very sexy girlfriend. If I ever do try to cross the line, I really hope you'd stop me."

"That's part of the problem, I'm not sure I have much self-control when it comes to you, either," she said, looking him directly in the eyes. "This is all so odd to me. I never felt like this with Michael, at all. We were more like friends than anything else, and we rowed loads, too. I probably only stayed with him as long as I did because half of that time we weren't speaking to each other. I doubt I would have had this problem with Dean, either. I mean, I think he's really handsome, but I also know he has a bit of a reputation and I was always going to set strict limits with him. With you, however, I don't even want to think about any limits."

Harry gulped as her words sank in. Part of him wanted to instantly rip her clothes off and have her there and then, but he knew that would be a huge mistake. He was starting to realise just how much she meant to him, and he was determined not to jeopardise their relationship for the sake a quick shag, no matter how much he desperately wanted to.

"Ginny," he began, "I'm exactly the same. I never thought much beyond giving Cho the odd kiss or two, but with you… do you have any idea how much I want you right at the moment? It's all I can do from ripping your knickers off! But I'm still a week shy of my sixteenth birthday, and you're not even fifteen yet. We've got loads of time to get round to that, and I just don't want to rush things and spoil it. Besides, I always imagined that would be something we kinda worked up to."

Ginny sighed. "Why does it have to be so hard?"

"Mainly because you keep rubbing up against me," he joked cheekily.

She laughed out loud, before a wicked grin came onto her face. "Oh, that's my doing, is it? Maybe I shouldn't do this, then."

Ginny began to rub herself seductively against him. It was both wonderful and pure torture for him, simultaneously, and was definitely making his decision about them taking their time more difficult. He pulled her tightly to him, preventing her from moving against him anymore.

"Do you have any idea what that does to me?" he growled.

"Why, yes, I do. In fact, pressed up against you like this, I'm very aware of the effect I've achieved. My, I'm going to be a lucky girl, aren't I?"

"Evil witch!" he laughed, and began to kiss her again.

Perhaps it was a result of the discussion they'd just had, but something was different. Before, their kissing had certainly been intense and passionate, but now it quickly seemed to reach a new level. Their mutual confession of desire had awoken a burning need within each of them, and it was nearly overwhelming in its intensity.

Harry felt Ginny's hands urgently pulling him closer, and her tongue battled desperately with his. Previously, if he'd become a little too excited by their snogging, to maintain decency he'd carefully made sure his lower body wasn't in contact with hers. Now, he simply didn't care. She knew how badly he wanted her, and the feeling seemed to be reciprocated.

Almost unconsciously, Harry slipped his right hand under the bottom of her t-shirt and ran his fingers lovingly over her soft, warm flesh. He felt her shiver at his contact and she returned the favour by pulling at his shirt and caressing his exposed back. Unable to stop himself, he moved his hand slowly up her body, trying to give her the opportunity to stop him if she wished. Apparently, she didn't.

With her free hand, Ginny grabbed his arm and forced it upwards. His fingers soon encountered the soft mound of flesh that was her left breast, and he was slightly shocked to discover she wasn't wearing a bra. Almost trembling with excitement, he gently squeezed and was overjoyed to hear a soft moan of pleasure come from his girlfriend. Encouraged, he began to gently massage her breast, aware that her nipple was hardening under his touch.

With their tongues now locked in a frantic dance, Harry felt Ginny slide her hand back around so she could run it up and down chest, with each pass her fingers seemed to edge lower towards the waistband of his jeans. Unable to control himself, he grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt and pulled it up, exposing her chest completely. Pulling his mouth away from hers, he gazed down on her naked flesh for the first time.

Ginny truly was beautiful. Her breasts were somewhat larger than he had been expecting, and had a light dusting of freckles between them which stood out clearly against her white, creamy skin. Her nipples were pink and swollen, a testament to her arousal. Before he could stop himself, he brought his head down to her chest and took the left nipple into his mouth. He sucked greedily.

"Ohhhhh, yes!" she gasped, pressing herself against him. Incredibly excited by her response, Harry began to rub his tongue over the hardened nub, while allowing his other hand to squeeze her right breast. He could feel her body trembling against his, and his erection was painfully demanding release from its confines.

"That feels so good," Ginny moaned, her voice coming out in breathy gasps. "So good."

Virtually all coherent thought had vanished from Harry's brain. His earlier words about waiting now seemed ridiculous. Why should they deny themselves something this wonderful? His right hand released her breast and began to snake down her body. He felt her squirm slightly, as he realised she was trying to undo her shorts. Ignoring her frantic fumbling, he slipped his fingers under her waistband and continued to probe downwards…

"Harry! Ginny! Where are you?" came Hermione's voice, sounding surprisingly close.

"Where the bloody hell are they?" Harry heard Ron moan.

He rolled off Ginny with blinding speed, and she quickly pulled down her t-shirt. They both froze as they listened for the voices again.

"Harry, are you up here?" Hermione called again. Judging from the direction her voice was coming from, Harry assumed Hermione was just entering the orchard from the main path, meaning she was less than twenty yards away. He glanced at Ginny, who was red-faced and angry looking.

"Bastards!" she hissed. "Why did they have to interrupt us now?"

"Maybe it was just as well they did," Harry whispered back. "Another few minutes and I think my suggestion about waiting would have gone up in smoke."

"Like I said before, I wouldn't have tried to stop you," she told him quietly. Harry looked at her and could see frustration written all over her face. Mind you, he was probably going to have to lock himself in the bathroom to gain some urgently-required relief fairly soon, too.

He gave her a quick kiss and smiled at her warmly. "You're amazing, you know that."

"Not as amazing as what you can do with your tongue," she giggled softly. "You and I will be continuing this where we left off pretty bloody soon. Got that?"

"Just try and stop me," he grinned. "Now, what the hell do those two want? Can't they just bugger off and snog each other? That's why we set them up, after all."

"My brother's probably too chicken to have tried anything like that," Ginny said in disgust, before a wicked smile came to her lips. She reached over and pulled her wand from a small bag she'd brought with her. "Maybe we should encourage them not to come chasing after us?"

Harry's answering smile was just as evil. "Hey, constant vigilance, and all that. We could just say we were doing a bit of extra training."

"Baggsie I get to hex Ron," she whispered.

"He's all yours, love," Harry replied, pulling out his own wand.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Fifteen minutes later, a giggling Harry and Ginny ran through the back door of the Burrow and into the kitchen. Ginny was laughing so hard she nearly ran straight into her mother.

"Oh, good. Ron and Hermione found you, did they? Where are they, by the way?" Mrs Weasley asked, peering over Harry's shoulder out the door.

"They got a bit side-tracked," Harry said, struggling to control his laugher.

"Yeah, I'm sure they'll be along in a minute," Ginny smirked.

"You two haven't been playing silly games now, have you?" Mrs Weasley began. "I sincerely hope you haven't been using magic, anyway."

"Mrs Weasley, I know that the Ministry can't distinguish individual magic through the magical protections around the Burrow," Harry replied in a reasonable voice. "Besides, we've been doing magic all through the holidays, so far. A little bit more won't hurt."

"It's all to do with the Defence club Harry's going to run next term, anyway," Ginny lied smoothly. "We warned Ron and Hermione that we'd be trying to catch them out."

"Even so, I don't want you four casting magic in this house. Got that?" Mrs Weasley said firmly. "I've never allowed any of my children to cast underage magic outside of school, and I'm not going to start now."

"Yes, Mrs Weasley," Harry agreed quickly.

"Yes, Mum," Ginny confirmed, sounding like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"Good, now, do I have to go and rescue those two?" Molly demanded.

"No, the charms will wear off in a few minutes," Harry confirmed.

"They might even have returned to their normal colour by the time they get back here, too," Ginny added.

Mrs Weasley sighed. "I can see my daughter is corrupting you, Harry," she sighed.

The comment came at exactly the wrong time and both of them broke into a fit of giggles again. Mrs Weasley looked at them sharply.

"You two seem to be spending a lot of time together," she noted suspiciously.

"Um, yeah. Well, I think Ron and Hermione are keen to be alone at the moment," Ginny replied, sobering suddenly.

"Yes, we thought it was best for us to give them some space to sort out their issues by themselves," Harry added, picking up on Ginny's sudden discomfort.

"Really? So it's not that you two are equally keen to be alone together?" Mrs Weasley said pointedly.

"Mrs Weasley…" Harry began.

"Yes, Mum, we're together," Ginny said in a resigned voice, before offering Harry an apologetic shrug. Harry caught her meaning immediately. Lying directly to the Weasley matriarch about this would probably be a very, very bad idea.

"What happened to this other boy at school you liked? Dean, or whatever his name was," Mrs Weasley demanded of her daughter.

"I wrote and told him I'd changed my mind. I only agreed to go out with him because I didn't think Harry was interested," Ginny admitted.

Molly sighed. "I don't know whether to be happy or terrified," she told them. "Naturally, I'm delighted at your choice of boy, Ginny. You couldn't find a nicer young man than Harry here. On the other hand, I tend to leave you children to your own devices around here quite a bit. That means I'm trusting you to maintain decent standards of behaviour. Do you understand me? While you are staying under my roof, Harry, I will expect you to behave yourself."

"Of course, Mrs Weasley," Harry agreed immediately, trying to put the events in the apple orchard out of his mind. "I'm immensely grateful to you and Mr Weasley for letting me stay here, and I would never betray your trust."

"That's what they all say," Molly muttered in a weary voice. "Does Ronald know about this yet?"

"No, and we'd really appreciate it if you could leave it up to us to tell him," Ginny begged.

Mrs Weasley nodded with an understanding smile on her lips. "Maybe that would be for the best, dear," she agreed.

"HARRY! GINNY! YOU TWO ARE DEAD!" came Ron's enraged voice from somewhere outside.

"Oops! Ron sounds angry. Why is Ron always so angry?" Ginny asked with a smirk.

"Too much red meat," Harry said sagely. "Umm, Mrs Weasley? Do you suppose we could…?"

"Yes, go," she agreed and watched as Harry grabbed Ginny's hand and the two of them ran upstairs.

A moment later Ron thundered into the kitchen barely giving his mother a second glance. His skin was an alarming shade of yellow, with purple polka dots adding to the effect. Hermione followed him through the door a moment later, dressed as a clown. They took one look round the kitchen, and, having established their targets weren't there, they tore towards the stairs, both of them shouting threats of vengeance as they went.

Molly watched them go with a sad smile on her lips. She knew that things were going to change radically from this point on, and that Ginny would no longer be her little princess. She could only be glad that it was Harry that she'd picked. She might be a Weasley by name, but Ginny was a Prewitt through and through, and when a Prewitt girl got her claws into a man, he had no chance of escape. With a shake of her head, Molly began to ponder if it was too soon to start thinking about wedding plans…

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"I did it!" Hermione yelled jubilantly, practically jumping for joy inside the small circle that she'd just Apparated into.

"Very well done, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said warmly.

The group of them all hurried over to Hermione to congratulate her. She was the first of them to succeed in Apparating, although that wasn't a great surprise to anybody. Harry patted his friend's back, before standing back to allow Ron to pull her into a rough hug. Looking up, he saw McGonagall watching him intently. Feeling curious, he ambled over to where she was standing.

"Isn't that amazing, Professor?" he said. "Hermione's managed to get the hang of it in less than a week. She told me that the official course takes twelve weeks."

"More accurately it should be referred to as a course of twelve one-hour sessions, spread over twelve weeks," she corrected him. "We've already nearly devoted half that time to these studies, and I do like to think that I'm a better educator than some Ministry jobsworth."

"Of course you are," Harry agreed rapidly. "Still, it's a great achievement."

"Indeed, although I suspect the rest of you will succeed very shortly, too. You're all very close to achieving it," McGonagall confirmed. She then looked at Harry with a mysterious expression on her face. "Mr Weasley seems especially pleased that Miss Granger was successful."

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "He does, doesn't he?"

"And this doesn't worry you, at all?"

Harry turned to look at the stern witch in surprise. "No, it doesn't. Why should it?"

"Oh, no reason," McGonagall chuckled softly. "I think I've fallen into the trap of once again thinking that you're like your father. It's a habit I regret that I find hard to break."

Harry paused for a moment, trying to understand the old witch's words. Understanding came to him in a flash.

"You think Hermione's to me what my mum was to my dad, don't you?" he said.

McGonagall sighed. "Lily made James grow into a better person. I suspect that she'd always been attracted to him, but by refusing to have anything to do with him until he started acting more mature, she virtually forced him to grow up."

"Hermione has had the same effect on me, but it's not with an eye to turning me into a perfect date. I'm not even sure that's her agenda with Ron, although I'm a lot less certain about that," he chuckled.

"I should really know by now that in terms of personality you favour Lily far more than your father, Harry. He was such a loveable rogue that at times I imprint him onto you, for which I'm sorry," McGonagall admitted.

"I suppose if I do take after Mum, I should be looking out for a witch who's mischievous and a bit of a handful," Harry noted carefully, purposefully not looking in Ginny's direction.

McGonagall actually laughed. "Quite so, Harry, although I'm sure whoever you end up with will be a very lucky witch, indeed."

Harry blinked at the compliment. He couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation with his Head of House.

"Thank you, ma'am," he replied sincerely, "and thank you for giving up your free-time to come and teach us, too."

"It's my pleasure, Harry. As a teacher, it's always a joy to encounter young minds actually eager to learn. On a more personal note, I see these lessons as going some small way to aiding you in your task. I have a vague understanding of the challenges you and your friends face in the future, and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to help you."

Suddenly, Harry felt closer to the stern witch than he'd ever done before. On impulse, he drew her into a rough hug, surprising even himself.

"Thank you, Professor," he said when he released her. He was amused to see the shock on her own face, and that she even looked a little teary-eyed.

"That's quite alright, Mr Potter," she replied with a slightly trembling smile. "We'll resume this class tomorrow. Have a pleasant evening."

The Professor rapidly exited the room, her robes fluttering behind her. Harry watched her go with an affectionate smile on his lips. When he turned, he saw the other five all watching him with mixed expressions. While the three girls all looked on approvingly, Ron and Neville both looked shocked beyond belief.

Harry caught Ginny's eye, and she smiled warmly at him. Maybe he was growing up, Harry realised, and it wasn't just Hermione that he had to thank for it.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Good morning, Professor," Harry greeted the headmaster as he stepped from the Floo the next morning.

"And a very good morning to you, Harry. You are well rested, I trust?" the old wizard replied with a gentle smile.

"Oh, yes. I'm ready and raring to go," Harry confirmed. In truth, he'd been up rather late the previous evening, as he and Ginny had arranged to meet downstairs after everyone had gone to bed. The results of that clandestine meeting were well worth the loss of a few hours' sleep.

"I must say, my dear boy, that you seem a lot happier of late. I trust your romantic difficulties have all been addressed satisfactorily?"

"Umm, yes, sir," he replied, definitely not keen to discuss this sort of thing with him.

"Excellent, I'm very glad to hear it. Miss Weasley is a most enchanting young witch, and I don't doubt Molly is delighted by your choice, too," Dumbledore grinned.

"Smartarse," Harry muttered under his breath. It seemed impossible to keep a secret around here.

Dumbledore just chuckled.

"So, what will we be doing today, sir?" Harry asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Ah! I think, Harry, it is time we started to address that list you provided for me some time ago," he replied, all traces of humour instantly gone.

"Really? We're going to start going after the Horcruxes?" Harry asked, a little surprised. Dumbledore had previously hinted he wanted to wait to begin the search until he'd completed more training.

"Indeed. I know I said we should wait, but it occurs to me that we should really strike while the iron is hot. Besides, your education and training are advancing at a rate I never expected, and I believe you are ready for this task," Dumbledore informed him.

"You really think so, sir?" he asked, somewhat shocked at the headmaster's declaration.

"I do indeed. I am, to be quite frank, astounded by the progress you've made in such a short time and genuinely excited about what you might go on to achieve. I find myself bitterly regretting not attending to your education personally long before now, Harry, and now I fear that I will not be around to see you develop to your true potential."

He automatically glanced down at the old wizard's withered hand. Dumbledore hid it well, but Harry knew that he must be in constant pain from the terrible curse.

"Which Horcrux are we going to deal with today?" Harry asked, not wanting to dwell on the matter.

"I rather think we should devote our attentions to the one most readily available. The Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. Perhaps if you would be so good as to retrieve the Sword of Gryffindor, we should make a start."

Harry looked up to see the display cabinet the sword was normally kept in was open, so he purposely walked over and grasped it by the grip. It had been some years since he'd last handled the blade, and he was amazed at how much lighter it was than he remembered.

"Excellent, let's make our way to the Room of Requirement, and strike the first blow against Voldemort," Dumbledore announced, striding towards the door.

With mounting anxiety, Harry followed. He was very conscious that he was about to condemn a piece of Tom Riddle's soul to eternal damnation. A piece not unlike the one that was now part of him. It was an awful task to perform, but one that he knew he couldn't afford to shy away from.

A more immediate concern were the protections built into the Diadem. Like the other Horcruxes, it retained enough sentience to know when it was threatened, and it would definitely strike back. Like most of the protections Voldemort placed on his valued possessions, it would attack the mind and either persuade its attacker to cease, or play on their greatest fears to try and overwhelm them. Harry was well aware of what he feared the most, and as he walked he began to lock away any thoughts of his friends. The Horcrux would undoubtedly try and torture him with visions of anyone dear to him dying, so he took all thoughts of Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys and buried them deep in his mind. He hoped this would buy him enough time to destroy the Diadem before the Horcrux uprooted his darkest fears.

They arrived at the room entirely too quickly for Harry's liking. They entered in silence and followed the path that Tom had previously described to him. Harry could sense the tension building within him and he began to feel a little nauseous. He gripped the sword tightly in his hand as if his life depended on it, which, he reflected, it probably did.

They quickly found the large, stuffed troll that had been specifically mentioned in the directions he'd been given. Dumbledore seemed fascinated by the wondrous array of objects around them.

"I really must come back and peruse this room when I have more time," he murmured as he walked. "Is that a Vanishing Cabinet? I haven't seen one of them for years. No doubt that's where poor Mr Montague ended up last term."

"Knowing Montague, he probably deserved it," Harry said darkly. "It should just be here on the left… ah, here we are. Tom mentioned that he splattered that cupboard with acid so he'd be able to recognise the hiding place. There it is, sir, the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw."

The tarnished tiara sat benignly on a pile of books and assorted junk, looking completely inoffensive. Harry couldn't suppress a shudder looking at it, however, and a dim memory entered his mind of a weather-beaten old man on his knees begging for his life. The Albanian forest had was deathly quiet, which had made the sound of the man's sobbing all the more vivid…

"Are you ready, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, rousing Harry from the dark memory. He looked at the old wizard and nodded determinedly.

Deciding not to try handling the Diadem, Harry stepped forward and raised the sword, determined to strike the Horcrux where it lay. As he had been expecting, as soon as he approached, the Horcrux sensed the threat to it and reacted.

Even if he'd been prepared for it, the Horcrux's mental assault nearly sent Harry reeling. He found himself frozen, unable to step forward and strike the object, no matter how hard he tried. Gritting his teeth, he desperately tried to clear his mind, dimly aware of Dumbledore trying to speak to him.

Just as Harry felt he was beginning to overcome the compulsion cast upon him, a green mist seemed to emanate from the Diadem. The mist swirled crazily, before it formed into the shape of two people. When Harry saw who they were he nearly dropped the sword in surprise. He stared at the image of his mother and father in shock.

"Harry, please don't destroy us!" Lily Potter begged, looking down at him with a pleading expression on her face. "We gave our lives to save you. Won't you save us in return?"

"This isn't the way, Son," James Potter said firmly. "You've been deceived and betrayed."

"Listen to your father, darling," Lily urged. "This is all part of Dumbledore's plan. He knew of Wormtail's disloyalty, but did nothing about it in order to manufacture a meeting between you and Voldemort. He knew of the prophecy, remember! He knew that the only way that the Dark Lord would be defeated was if he attacked you. He just didn't care that the only way that would happen was over our dead bodies."

"Once the last of the Horcruxes are destroyed, he'll arrange for you to be sacrificed, too! Don't let him persuade you otherwise," James said accusingly.

"He won't be happy until you and Voldemort are both dead. That's what he believes the prophecy means, Harry, and he won't stop until he's achieved all his goals. You have to protect yourself, my love! Don't trust Dumbledore, he means to kill you," Lily sobbed.

"Turn the sword, Harry! Strike the traitorous old bastard down!" his father roared.

Behind him, Harry could hear Dumbledore yelling, no doubt denying everything that was being said. But hadn't the old wizard already admitted that he'd planned to use him as a sacrifice? Just because the splinter of Tom's soul could no longer be used as a make-shift Horcrux, did it really change anything? Dumbledore had been appalled by the idea that their souls had merged, he wouldn't put it past the deceitful old bastard to arrange his death, just to be on the safe side. Almost unconsciously, Harry half-turned to face the old wizard, the Sword of Gryffindor outstretched before him.

"That's it, Harry! Kill him before he can kill you!" Lily yelled.

With a primal yell, Harry swung the sword as hard as he could. The Diadem shattered into a dozen pieces, and the misty image of his parents vanished instantly.

He turned to look at Dumbledore, who was staring back at him grey-faced.

"I'm extremely glad you chose not to believe the lies the Horcrux was feeding you, Harry," Dumbledore said in a surprisingly steady voice. "For a moment there, I thought you were going to attack me."

"No, I knew my mother would never encourage me to kill anyone," Harry replied. "It was just part of the Horcrux's defences."

After taking a steadying breath, Harry began to walk back the way they'd come. As he passed Dumbledore, however, he paused and looked the old wizard in the eye.

"Of course, if any of that proves to be true and you do try to arrange my death, I won't hesitate to stick this sword through your chest," he said calmly, "and if I don't succeed, I don't doubt that one of my friends will."

Without waiting for a response, Harry quickly walked away.


	7. Chapter 7 – Secret Treaties

**Chapter 7 – Secret Treaties**

 **AN**

Is everyone nicely broke from their Black Friday shopping sprees? Good. As a filthy capitalist I'm contractually obliged to approve. Possibly. Anyway, I'd better throw up another 'Naughtiness Warning!' for this one (someone really needs to throw a bucket of cold water over Harry and Ginny soon. I'd do it, but my bucket has a hole in it). Oh, and for those of you wondering how Harry and Dumbledore's relationship will pan out in this story, I have a scene that might provide some clarification. Or perhaps confuse it even more. Whatever.

Huge thanks to Arnel, who mercifully resisted wishing me, a Brit, a Happy Thanksgiving. And, yes, I have read Happy Potter stories where that holiday has been included! Gah!

* * *

"Happy birthday, Harry!"

Harry looked around half in surprise. He'd guessed that the Weasleys were planning something for his birthday. After all, he and his friends had been excused from training for the day and he'd subsequently been banished into the house for most of the morning, but the effort they'd put in still took his breath away.

While a sixteenth birthday didn't carry the same weight as a seventeenth one would in the Wizarding community, it still felt like a big deal to him. If he'd never learnt that he was a wizard, he would have been leaving school about now, possibly to go onto college but more likely to some low-paying, mind-numbing job. No doubt dear Uncle Vernon would have been making noises about him 'finding his own place', too.

It was wonderful, therefore, that everyone had gone all-out to make the day special for him. After being told in no uncertain terms that he was not to leave his bedroom without permission, Ginny had eventually come and led him outside where he'd found his friends gathered around several large tables all groaning with food. A bright banner declaring 'happy birthday' hung between two trees, and a stack of presents was arranged neatly before him. It was all enough to bring a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes. He tried to thank everyone, but he just couldn't seem to get the words out.

"Here's the birthday boy!" Ginny called out, seeming to sense his emotional state. She squeezed his hand and smiled encouragingly at him.

"Come and open your presents," Hermione said, grabbing his other hand and leading him forward.

Gradually, as he opened each gift, he managed to get himself under control. He was able to thank the giver of each present, even if his voice did waver a little as he spoke. His friends, magnificent as they all were, didn't make any comment on his shaky voice and just smiled understandingly at him. None of the gifts were particularly expensive or extravagant in any way, but he wouldn't have given a single one of them up for the world. After he'd opened the last one, Mrs Weasley came over and enveloped him in hug, before standing back to look at him.

"You've grown so tall, Harry. I can barely believe you're the same boy I met at King's Cross five years ago," she gushed.

"It's probably all the wonderful food you feed me," he replied gratefully.

"Well, it's obviously done you good! Now, pull up a seat and we can all tuck in," she instructed him, before guiding him to a chair next to the one Ginny had selected. Mrs Weasley had many admirable strengths, but subtlety wasn't one of them.

Harry looked across the table to where Luna and Neville were sitting.

"Hey, thanks for coming, you two," Harry said warmly.

"I'm delighted to be invited, Harry," Luna replied. "I would have missed not seeing everyone today, bearing in mind training was cancelled."

"Yeah, I find the weekends really boring now," Neville agreed. "I can't believe all the cool stuff I've learnt over the last month!"

"Too right," Ron agreed, pausing briefly from filling his plate with food. "I can't believe I can Apparate already! Charlie had to take his test twice and he was nearly eighteen by the time he passed."

"Charlie isn't built for Apparation," Fred, who'd taken the day off to attend the party, explained.

"Yes, he's built more for running through brick walls," George confirmed. "Probably head first."

"George! Don't insult your brother like that," Mrs Weasley scolded him. "He left school with a more qualifications than you'll achieve, I dare say."

"Very true, but I'm pretty sure I'll end up considerably wealthier than him, and with less burn marks, too," George grinned.

"Yeah, you have to admit, Mum, any profession which requires you to stand in front of an enraged dragon on a regular basis isn't going to appeal to anyone with a dollop of intelligence, is it?" Fred reasoned.

Try as she might, Molly Weasley seemed unable to come up with a reply to that.

"This is great," Harry said to Ginny as he placed several sausage rolls on his plate. "I can't believe you lot all did this for me."

"It was our pleasure, Harry," she told him tenderly. "Besides, we Weasleys don't need much of an excuse to throw a party."

"It's true, Harry," George confirmed. "We once threw a party to celebrate Errol's birthday. Of course, the stupid bird slept right through it."

"We should really thank you for the opportunity to have bit of a ding-dong. Mind you, it was a bit of a life-saver for me and George," Fred admitted. "Trying to survive on what we can cook between us is a bit dodgy."

"Yeah, I hope you can put some doggie bags together for us, Mum. This is the best we've eaten in weeks," George said, probably being truthful for once.

Molly sighed dramatically, although Harry didn't doubt the woman was already planning on making a series of meals to send over to the twins.

The celebration continued in good humour, and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Mr Weasley joined them later in the day, having bunked off work early so as to join in. It was, Harry decided, by far and away the best birthday he'd ever had. He did receive a shock, however, when in the middle of a conversation with Ron he felt a small hand slip onto his thigh and give it a squeeze. With admirable effort, he managed to control his facial expression and continue the conversation uninterrupted. When he reached a natural pause, he turned and tried to give Ginny a hard stare, but as the look she returned was so cheeky he just couldn't maintain his glare. Instead, he just leaned over and whispered 'later' into her ear. As soon as he'd turned his attention back to Ron, he heard 'I can't wait' whispered back. His day just seemed to be getting better and better, he decided.

It was early evening by the time the party started winding down. Fred and George had already made their excuses, citing a large delivery of supplies they still had to unpack and put away before they opened their shop again in the morning. Harry noticed both of them were clutching a large bag each, presented to them by their worried mother and no doubt containing enough food to last a small army for a week. Luna and Neville also departed, but not before the former had given Harry a fierce hug and the latter had enthusiastically shaken his hand. Frankly, he was just glad they did it that way round.

The sun was just starting to dip on the horizon, coating everything in a hazy glow, as Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione sat on the grass, each nursing a bottle of Butterbeer. The day had been truly wonderful, Harry decided, even if he had eaten far too much and was now feeling a bit stuffed.

"Oh, Ginny, I quite forgot," Hermione said suddenly. "I received a letter from Parvati which I have to show you! Come inside for a moment."

Hermione leapt to her feet and offered her hand to pull Ginny up. Ginny accepted it, but had a suspicious look on her face as she did. She allowed herself to be dragged towards the house, however.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked in confusion.

"No idea, mate. You know how girls are," Ron shrugged.

"Some girls, but not those two," Harry pointed out.

"Don't ask me," his friend insisted.

There followed a few minutes of silence, as both boys continued to sip their drinks. Harry glanced at his friend, and had the strange feeling that he was nervous about something. He was about to ask him about it, when Ron cut him off.

"So, you and Ginny, eh?" he said in flat voice.

Harry sighed. He might have known the day was going too well. He really was in far too good a mood to receive the 'big brother' speech from Ron, assuming that was what he was about to get. Truthfully, despite Ron initially trying to push him and Ginny together, he had no idea how his friend was going to react.

"Yeah, it's been going on a few weeks now," Harry admitted.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Ron asked.

"I just didn't think it was the sort of stuff we would talk about. I mean, I don't ask about you and Hermione now, do I?" he said, determined to grab the high ground right from the start.

"No, but that's a bit different, isn't it?" Ron argued. "I mean, I know you think of Hermione like a sister, but she'd not your actual flesh and blood, is she? You've only known Hermione for five years, while Ginny's been around me my entire life. Me suddenly coming across you and my sister snogging is going to be a bit different to you catching me and Hermione doing it. You know, assuming we are snogging. Which I'm not saying we are."

"Of course not," Harry grinned.

"Anyway, you can see that I'd want to be protective of Ginny, can't you? Especially after the bloody poor job I did of it back in her first year."

"No, I can quite understand that, but do you seriously think she needs protecting from me? Blimey, mate, you were the one trying to get us together not so long ago," Harry said in an exasperated voice.

"Yeah, but that was when Dean was in the picture, wasn't it? I just couldn't stand the thought of Ginny being with him. I mean, he's a nice enough bloke, but we've both heard him talk enough to know what he'd try to do to my sister!" Ron snorted.

"I can't argue with that," Harry nodded. Even now, the thought of Dean even touching Ginny sent him into a cold rage.

"Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that it's not easy for me, you know? No one wants to see his own sister getting off with a bloke, especially not his best mate," Ron said.

"I do understand, and I sympathise. But me and Ginny have really hit it off. It's like I said to her, I never really got to see the person that you all saw until recently. She was always really embarrassed when she saw me, and just used to make that weird little 'meep!' noise and run off. It's only in the last year that she got over her crush and started to be able to have a normal conversation with me. Only then did I realise what a great girl she is."

"I think it was more an 'eeep!' noise," Ron corrected.

"Yeah, maybe," Harry laughed. "So, is the fact that you're not trying to kick my head in a good sign?"

"I might have done, last week, anyway," Ron admitted. "Daft as it sounds, after I said that you two should hook-up, I really wasn't prepared for it to actually happen. Let's face it, mate, you're a bloody disaster when it comes to girls. Cho Chang was barmy about you and you still managed to screw that up."

"Sorry, Romeo, I should have come to you for advice, obviously," Harry said sarcastically. "Anyway, what changed? Why aren't you threatening me within an inch of my life?"

"Ah, well, Hermione had a bit of a talk with me," Ron said glumly. "She pointed out a few home truths. As she was slapping the back of my head just to emphasise each point, I soon got the message."

"She's a bit violent, that one," Harry noted. "For someone who keeps preaching understanding and tolerance, she can sure dish it out."

"Tell me about it! And she threatened to withhold privileges if I didn't get my head out of my arse," Ron noted sullenly.

"Privileges?" Harry repeated gleefully.

"Oh, bugger, I didn't mean to say that out loud. Err, you know, helping me with homework and stuff like that," Ron said hastily.

"Do you know that your ears turn bright red when you fib?" Harry grinned.

"Piss off, Potter," Ron muttered. "Look, what I'm trying to say is I've thought about what Hermione said and I think you and Ginny getting together is a good thing. Frankly, you can be a miserable git at times, mate, and I know she won't stand any of that shite. I would warn you not to hurt her or mess her around, but, let's face it, if you do she'll hurt you far worse than I ever could. Alright?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I'll do you a deal, okay? You never mention what you get up to with Hermione, and I'll never say a word about what happens between me and Ginny. Deal?"

"Deal," Ron agreed and they chinked bottles.

"Did Hermione really get a letter from Parvati?" Harry asked presently.

"Nah, but she's actually created a fake one, though. I tell you, Ginny will take one look at it and know it's not from Patil! Honestly, listening to her trying to come up with stuff to put in the letter was hilarious. I know more about girls' fashion than she does," Ron snickered.

"I'll have to persuade her to show it to me later," Harry grinned, "just so I can find out how my fellow Gryffindor is doing, of course."

"Of course," Ron smirked.

The two boys lay on the grass and enjoyed the last of the sunshine, for once content that all was going well.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Pisst! Wake up sleepy-head," a hushed voice said, rousing Harry from his slumber.

"G…Ginny?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Yeah, you still have a whole hour of your birthday left, and I've come to celebrate it with you," she grinned cheekily. "You light a candle and I'll soundproof the room, okay?"

Harry fumbled to light the bedside candle while Ginny hopped off the bed. Deciding that groping for matches wasn't going to do any good, he cheated and used his wand. He lit it just in time to see his girlfriend tapping the doorframe with her wand.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"It's alright, Harry, you can talk in a normal voice now," she replied at her usual volume.

"Err, are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, this used to be the twins' bedroom, remember? They had a penchant for blowing things up, so ages ago they placed Silencing Charms all around here. When they moved out, they naturally told their favourite sister all about them. Of course, I doubt they realised what purpose I would use those charms for," she smirked.

"Oh, and what exactly had you in mind?" Harry asked, suddenly becoming very interested.

"Well, I thought I'd come and give you another birthday present. Something a bit more… personal, if you get my drift."

"Oh, indeed, the best gifts are always the most personal ones," he agreed, nodding eagerly.

"Well, now, where shall we start? As it's such a warm night, maybe I'll start like this."

With a seductiveness that no fifteen year-old should be able to pull off, she stalked towards him with her hips swinging. When she reached the edge of his bed, she reached down and gripped the bottom of her t-shirt.

"Shall I?" she teased.

"Oh, dear God, yes!" he practically begged.

Ginny pulled her t-shirt up over her head and then dropped it casually onto the floor. She stood wearing only a rather skimpy pair of knickers.

"Happy birthday to me!" Harry gulped as admired her. Sweet Merlin, she was beautiful. How the hell did he get so lucky?

"Now, shall we see what you wear to bed, Mr Potter?" she said casually, although Harry could detect a certain amount of nervousness in her voice. She grabbed the bedsheet that was covering him and pulled it away. Due to the warm weather, he'd chosen to only wear a pair of boxer shorts which did little to hide how aroused he'd become. Casting the sheet to one side, she climbed onto the bed next to him.

"Ginny? How far are you planning to take this?" he asked, the need in his voice plain to hear.

"Not quite all the way," she admitted, her own voice also rather husky. "I do want to give you a special birthday treat, though."

Without warning, she grabbed his boxer shorts and tugged. Before he knew it, he was lying naked in front of his girlfriend.

"Bloody hell," Ginny gasped, "I wasn't expecting it to be quite so… big."

"Wow, you really know how to stroke a boy's ego, don't you?" he joked, although he could feel himself trembling with excitement.

"Ah, actually it wasn't just your ego that I came to stroke," she grinned, and took him in her hand.

"Oh, my God!" he exclaimed, his mind totally blown by the sight of the near-naked redhead clutching his manhood.

"I hope I do this right," she said, starting to gently move her hand up and down. "Growing up in a house with six brothers meant I was forever walking in on them doing this to themselves. It's a wonder I haven't gone blind with some of the things I've seen!"

"You're doing just fine," Harry managed to gasp. "Maybe a little bit faster?"

Ginny increased her pace. Harry groaned in pleasure, immensely glad there was a Silencing Charm on the room. If she carried on like this he'd be screaming his head off pretty soon.

"Is that good?" she asked in a breathy voice.

"Better than you can imagine," he confirmed. "Come nearer so I can kiss you."

She shuffled up the bed so she could lay next to him, but didn't once stop the motion of her hand. Harry pulled her close and began to kiss her with an urgent need. She moaned as their tongues began to lazily rub together. He slid his left hand up her body so he could grasp her breast, and he lovingly began to caress her erect nipple with his thumb. She groaned her approval, and began to tug on him even faster.

"Ginny, I'm… oh, God, I'm not going to last much longer," he gasped.

"Then don't!" she urged. "Come on, Harry, let it out. Do it for me."

With a strangled moan, Harry exploded in her hand. He heard her gasp as he shot the warm, sticky liquid over both of them time and time again. Her hand began to slow as she milked the last few drops from him.

"That was so cool," she said, a look of wonder on her face.

"That doesn't even begin to describe it," he said, breathing heavily. "That was the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me!"

"Yeah, right!" she giggled. "You've survived the Killing Curse, single-handedly fought off hordes of Dementors, battled a dragon to become the Triwizard Champion, and the most amazing thing you think that has happened to you was me giving you a hand job?"

"I'm bloody serious! That was unbelievable," Harry insisted, pulling her close so he could kiss her again.

It was some time before they broke apart again. Ginny looked up at him and shook her head.

"I can't believe I had the nerve to do that, actually. I spent all afternoon thinking, 'shall I or shan't I?' but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it," she admitted. "It's like I said before, I just don't seem to be able to control myself around you."

"I know what you mean. It's almost like I've got this compulsion to touch you. Even though you've just tugged me off, I still want to rip your knickers off with my teeth! I can't help it!"

Ginny frowned. "You don't think someone's messing with us, do you? I mean, I've heard of Compulsion Charms, and some Love Potions can drive you absolutely wild."

"Don't say that!" Harry exclaimed, completely horrified with the idea that what he was feeling for her might not be real. "Ginny, I'm certain that what I feel for you is completely genuine. Aren't you?"

"Course I am!" she scolded him. "Bloody hell, how many years have I yearned after you, you stupid git? No, I'm just saying it's a bit odd how intensely we want each other. I only have to think about you and I start getting randy."

Harry took an exaggerated look over her body. "Believe me, any bloke would have to be an idiot not to get horny if he could see what I can see," he grinned. "I dunno, Ginny, I just think that we've really clicked. Maybe we feel like this because we both know we've found the right person."

She kissed him again. "Good answer, Potter. I might just have to keep you."

"I should hope so after what you've just done to me," he laughed.

"Yeah, but that was before I knew what a dirty boy you are. I mean, look at all this mess you've made," she pointed out with a saucy grin on her face.

"Know any good Cleaning Charms?" he asked, suddenly aware of the state the sheets were in.

"Fortunately for you, I do," she chuckled.

"Great, but I'll tell you one thing, though, Ginny. I'm going to have to come up with something pretty spectacular for your birthday!"

The eager look in her eyes told Harry everything he needed to know.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry casually strode out of the Floo into the Headmaster's office. Although he felt a little tired after his late night with Ginny, he was also eager to continue his lessons with Dumbledore. He really felt like he was on the verge of a major breakthrough and…

He stopped dead. Unusually, Dumbledore was not the only person present in the office this morning. Sitting in a chair and eyeing him with an unfriendly stare was Severus Snape.

Harry stiffed as he remembered the first time he laid eyes on the man, diffident and bedraggled, being led forward by Lucius Malfoy, who'd assured him the pathetic-looking boy held great promise. His memories shifted to Snape running towards him and then prostrating himself on the floor in front of him, babbling about some prophecy he'd overheard. Finally, another image presented itself, one of Snape on his knees begging for the life of that filthy Mudblood Lily Potter…

With a startled gasp, Harry tore himself from the images and glared at Snape with hatred in his heart. He was the one who told Voldemort about the prophecy! He was directly responsible for the death of his parents! Oh, he may have subsequently begged for the life of his mother, but Harry noted that he and his father never warranted a moment's consideration. It would have suited that greasy bastard down to the ground, wouldn't it? The recently widowed Lily Potter, delivered to him by his master as a reward for being a loyal Death Eater. What would Snape have done when his mother rejected him? The bastard…

Slowly, Harry gripped his wand and pointed it at the lank-haired professor.

"Harry! Stop that immediately," Dumbledore cried, deliberately placing himself between Harry and his member of staff.

"That stinking bastard told Voldemort about the prophecy, didn't he?" Harry growled, his whole body trembling with rage.

"Albus!" Snape exclaimed. "What have you said to the brat?"

"Harry, Severus made a mistake which he tried to rectify," Dumbledore began in a reasonable voice. "He bitterly regretted his actions and…"

"Oh, he regretted it when his vile master killed my mother!" Harry yelled. "He was happy to let me and my dad die, though, wasn't he? Thought it would give him a shot at her, probably. Not that it would have done him any good. Like my mother would have ever touched a greasy, snivelling, bag of shit like him!"

"You go too far!" Snape bellowed while standing and pointing his wand back at him.

"STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU! LOWER YOUR WANDS!"

Harry had never heard Dumbledore so much as raise his voice before, so to hear him yelling in rage was a shock. Almost immediately, the air was filled by a soft crooning sound, and Harry looked over to see Fawkes was standing on his perch, singing a soothing song. Despite his fury, Harry felt himself begin calm down, almost against his wishes.

"Harry," Dumbledore began in more reasonable tone, "I can guess how you came by this information, but I assure you that you've only heard half the story. Severus was indeed the one to carry word of the prophecy to Voldemort, but he did so when he was a young, inexperienced Death Eater. He subsequently discovered the evilness of his master, and sought a means to escape. The discovery that the prophecy related to you and that Voldemort planned to attack your home was just the final straw. None of us can claim never to have made a mistake in their lives, Harry, but it is a measure of a man on how he reacts after making that error. Severus has done everything he can to defeat his former master, and shown enormous bravery in doing so. That, surely, has to count for something."

"He's hated me since the moment he clapped his eyes on me," Harry countered. "He tried to get Sirius kissed by a Dementor."

"I believed Black was a guilty man and deserved the punishment," Snape sneered.

"Bollocks! You knew Pettigrew was alive. You just wanted to kill your hated school rival, didn't you?" Harry snapped.

"HARRY! Please, discord amongst ourselves will only aid Voldemort. Whatever your differences, you must put them aside," Dumbledore urged.

Harry's looked at the old man with near loathing. "What's he even doing here, anyway? I made it quite clear I never wanted to be taught by him ever again."

"The feeling is mutual," Snape spat. "I can't begin to say how overjoyed I was when I learnt I didn't have to suffer you in my classroom next term, Potter."

"Enough!" Dumbledore said loudly. "Harry, I asked Severus here to perform a specific duty for me."

"And what would that be?" Harry demanded, still glaring at Snape.

"It occurs to me, Harry, that despite my best assurances, you still believe that I want you to die by Voldemort's hand. Whilst I freely admit that was once the case, I realise the utter futility of that gesture now, and that it would only lead to Voldemort's victory. Whilst you still doubt me, however, a massive chasm lays between us, and this will only lead to greater problems later. To offer you some reassurance, therefore, I propose to give you an Unbreakable Vow as to my good intentions. Severus will act as our Bonder."

Harry turned to look at the old man in surprise. He certainly hadn't been expecting such a gesture. Then, a worrying thought occurred to him.

"How much have you told him?" he asked, gesturing at the angry Potions Master.

"Not everything, by a long shot," Dumbledore said. "I have assured him of the absolute necessity of this action, however."

For a moment, Harry pondered the old wizard's offer. Of course, everything would depend on the wording, but did he have anything to lose? Besides, if Dumbledore really did still believe he had to be sacrificed, it might be a good idea for Harry to let him believe that his suspicions had been satisfied.

"Okay, I accept," he nodded.

"Splendid. If you would be so good as to hand your wand to Professor Snape, then we shall undertake the vow immediately."

Reluctantly, Harry handed his wand to the sneering man, and Dumbledore did the same. The headmaster then lowered himself to his knees on the floor, and Harry did the same, facing him. They then clasped their right hands, and Snape stepped forward.

"Will you, Albus Dumbledore, promise that you have no intentions to sacrifice the life of Harry Potter?" Snape intoned formally.

"I will."

"And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?"

"I will."

"Will you also teach him to the very best of your ability, and do everything in your power to help him defeat Lord Voldemort?"

"I will."

Their clasped hands glowed for a moment, sealing the Vow. Slowly, Dumbledore rose to his feet, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Thank you, Harry. I hope this will convince you that I only wish you well," he said.

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry agreed, also climbing to his feet and accepting his wand back from Snape. "I mean, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow, now, can you?"

"If we're quite done here, may I be excused?" Snape growled. "I've had quite enough of pandering to the insecurities of some worthless brat."

Dumbledore turned and looked sternly at his Professor.

"Severus, it is time to put away this childish hatred of yours. While I quite understand your animosity to Harry, you must cease seeing his father every time you look at him. I have told you many times before that he is far closer to his mother in personality, and that alone should have proved his worth to you."

"Worth? Potter has no worth. Believe me, Headmaster, if you're hoping that this appalling child will save us all from the Dark Lord, then you are fooling yourself. He is a talentless dunderhead, and you are wasting your time trying to teach him anything," Snape snarled.

"Oh, I think you are gravely mistaken on that count, my friend," Dumbledore said in a deceptively calm voice. "Maybe a demonstration is in order. With Harry's leave, I would suggest, Severus, that you try to break into his mind."

"What?" Snape snapped in surprise.

Harry continued to glare at the man. Dumbledore's challenge virtually confirmed what he'd come to believe for some time, that Snape regularly broke into his mind and plundered his thoughts. But why was Dumbledore openly challenging his lackey to do so now? Unless…

"Do it, Professor… if you can," Harry challenged, knowing full well that was an invitation Snape would never turn down.

"Very well. Prepare yourself," Snape jeered, whilst drawing his wand. " _Legilimens!_ "

Harry stood impassively and made no attempt to repel the Professor's spell. Snape stared at him intently for a moment, before his eyebrows rose in surprise.

" _Legilimens!"_ he cried again, and still Harry did nothing but stand there.

"I… I can't break into his mind!" Snape gasped.

Dumbledore walked forward and gently lifted the fringe of Harry's hair, revealing his faded scar. Snape stared at it with his mouth open.

"How?" he asked simply.

"That, my friend, is not my story to tell, but I will say that many things have changed in a surprisingly short space of time," Dumbledore explained. "The connection with Voldemort that once plagued young Harry is now broken forever, and it has had a dramatic effect on him. His power and understanding has grown considerably, and I suspect will continue to grow in the coming months. You may scoff, Severus, but now that Voldemort is no longer tormenting him, Harry has the potential to be one of the greatest wizards who ever walked the earth."

Snape glared at Dumbledore for a moment, before pushing pass them and walking out of the office without a word. Dumbledore sighed.

"It is too soon for him to let go of his resentment and anger, I fear," he said softly. "He still blames himself for Lily's death, and as a means of protection has shifted that anger onto you, the son and spitting image of the man who stole her away from him."

"She was never his to steal," Harry said sharply.

Dumbledore looked back at him in surprise, before his expression softened. "No, I suppose she was not," he agreed, "not that Severus will ever see it like that, of course. Come, Harry, let us head to the Room of Requirement and begin your training for the day."

Harry nodded and followed the old wizard out of the room. As he walked, he stared at Dumbledore's back, pondering the value of an Unbreakable Vow made by a man who knew he had only a limited time to live.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Maybe it was the events of earlier that morning, but Harry increasingly found it hard to concentrate. Although he was making leaps and bounds in terms of dispensing with formulaic incantations and wand movements when casting spells, he still couldn't tap into the vast cloud of ambient energy that swirled around him. It was incredibly frustrating.

"Perhaps we could pause for a moment, Harry, and catch our breath," Dumbledore suggested, no doubt picking up on his increasingly sour mood.

"Yeah, that would probably be a good idea," he agreed, and lowered his wand.

With a weary sigh, he walked over to a small table where a jug of water rested. He poured himself a glass and gazed moodily around the room. The Room of Requirement currently only boasted two small windows through which shafts of light penetrated the otherwise gloomy interior. Several torches burned at various points around the room, but the place still seemed oppressively dark to him.

"You seem to be becoming increasingly frustrated, Harry," Dumbledore noted as he came over to join him. "Perhaps you need to approach the problem from a different angle."

"And how would I do that?" Harry asked tartly.

"I really have no idea," Dumbledore admitted cheerfully. "This was never one of my greater skills."

"Thanks," he muttered dryly.

But despite currently being as much use as a chocolate dragon harness, the old wizard did have a point. What Harry was doing at the moment simply wasn't working, so he needed to come at this from a different direction. But what?

Sipping his drink, Harry was grateful for the cool liquid as it slipped down his throat. The room was stuffy and warm, almost humid, in fact. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Previously, he'd been attempting to utilise the ambient energy to power whatever spell he was casting by trying to drag that energy to him and incorporate it into the spell directly. Perhaps that was the wrong way to go about it. Maybe he didn't need to physically interact with the power source at all.

Placing his glass back onto the table, Harry stepped forward and drew his wand again. How could he use the energy without it being inside him? He couldn't channel it through his wand, obviously, so there had to be another way. There must be a way to connect with it, he surmised.

Harry let his vision blur slightly, and the now familiar clouds of twisting, spiralling magic came into focus. It danced in the air about him, surrounding him but apparently untouchable… wait a minute! The air!

With a dramatic flourish of his wand, Harry cast his magic with no apparent form in mind. Instead, he concentrated on his immediate environment, and in particular the humid air all around him. If he could direct his magic through the very atoms of the air then maybe he could connect with the energy that was part of it.

There was a brilliant flash and Harry gasped. Before him, stretching out for perhaps twenty yards or so, was a spiral of glittering ice. Its crystalline structure was smooth, and it seemed to glitter with thousands of different colours. It hung in the air, completely unsupported, shining brightly.

Dumbledore, with an unreadable expression on his face, walked over and gently pushed at the structure with his finger. It swayed very slightly in the air, but otherwise remained in the same place.

"Utterly remarkable," he breathed, before turned to look at Harry. "What were you trying to create when you unleashed your magic, Harry?"

"I… I wasn't," he admitted. "I really didn't have anything in mind, at all. I just figured that as the magical energy seemed to just float in the air, I needed to direct my magic through it. I never expected this!"

"I should imagine not," Dumbledore chuckled. "It's quite beautiful, really."

"It's the same shape as one of those clouds of ambient magic," Harry suddenly realised. "Did I alter pure magic into ice?"

"No, I don't believe so," the old wizard shook his head. "But I do believe that you used that magic to transfigure the air into ice. It's just as well you didn't change all the air in the room or we might well have suffocated."

Harry just stared at him, dumfounded. "So, you think I actually managed to tap into the ambient magic, then?" he asked eventually.

"Yes, I do," the old wizard confirmed.

Harry said nothing, but turned back to look at his improvised ice sculpture. Slowly, a smile crept onto his lips. He'd done it! He'd found a way to utilise the background energy around him. Admittedly, it was going to take some work to be able to shape that energy into something useful, but nevertheless, it seemed to be a major breakthrough. He felt Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder giving him an approving squeeze.

"I can't wait to see what you create next," he smiled.

Harry grinned back. Neither could he.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The sound of the black water lapping against the edge of the shore was strangely eerie, Harry felt. Of course, the knowledge that hundreds of Inferi lurked just under the surface, all waiting for the opportunity to rise up and rip them limb from limb was enough to put anyone on edge. Still, if they were careful there was no reason that the undead should be woken from their dreamless slumber.

"The boat should be around here… ah! I do believe I have located the chain securing it," Dumbledore announced.

Harry hurried over to where Dumbledore was apparently holding something in his hand. A tap of the old wizard's wand, and the promised chain appeared. A further tap and the chain began to slide through his hands, dragging a small, green boat with it.

"Our transport, I believe," Dumbledore smiled. "After you, Harry."

Without hesitation, Harry carefully climbed into the boat, pulling his knees to his chest to allow room for Dumbledore. With surprising agility, the headmaster stepped into the small vessel and settled himself down. The moment he seated himself, the boat began to move forward gracefully, its prow cleaving the still water effortlessly.

"I'm still not happy about you having to drink the potion," Harry said, restarting an argument he'd been having with the headmaster ever since they decided to make the attempt to obtain the locket Horcrux.

"It has to be me," Dumbledore insisted. "I dread to think what effect the potion might have on you, my dear fellow. Remember your vulnerability to Dementors – this potion would have a similar effect on you. I also suspect that it might awaken all sorts of dreadful visions now that you share a small part of Voldemort's soul. It's simply not worth the risk."

Harry nodded, still not happy but accepting the old wizard's arguments. At least the enchanted flasks of water they carried with them would help dilute the potion's terrible effects, somewhat. That was all part of the protection Voldemort had placed on the island. The dreadful, burning thirst the potion created was designed to send the unwitting drinker scrambling to the water's edge in search of relief, only to awaken the Inferi that lurked there. It was a simple trap, but effective, nevertheless.

The rest of the journey was conducted in silence until the sound of the boat's bottom scrapping against rock alerted Harry to the fact they had reached the small island. Half-turning, he managed to wiggle himself out of the boat and he jumped well clear of the lapping waters. Dumbledore followed, as agile as a mountain goat. Together, they approached the glowing stone basin, set atop a small pedestal.

"As much as I'm not looking forward to this, I see little point prevaricating," Dumbledore announced, pulling a goblet from his robes. "Please remember that I'm to drink a mouthful of water for every one of the potion I consume."

"Sir… wait!" Harry said, stopping the old man as he was about to dip the goblet into the glowing, green liquid.

"What it is, Harry? Is something wrong?" Dumbledore asked hurriedly.

"The locket… I can just see it down there and it looks wrong," he replied, trying to peer through the murky potion.

"In what way?"

"That doesn't look like Slytherin's Locket," Harry announced. "It was supposed to have a large 'S' on it, inlaid with green jewels. The one down there doesn't."

Dumbledore frowned and also stared down into the green liquid.

"I do believe you are right," he said after a while. "This one doesn't match the description of the locket, at all, neither the one you provided nor the one in historical records."

"It's a fake," Harry spat in disgust.

"Indeed, but I suppose the questions is, do we attempt to retrieve it, anyway?" Dumbledore asked.

"Nah, it's not worth it," Harry said adamantly. "There's always a chance that Voldemort might check up on it occasionally, especially if he gets wind that we're hunting his Horcruxes. There's no point disturbing this one for no good reason."

"There might be a clue as to the original locket's whereabouts," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Or there might be some really nasty trap which I know nothing about," Harry countered. "I say we leave this."

"I suppose you're right. After all, we can always return here if needs be."

Harry nodded in agreement, but inside he was seething. Obviously, the locket had been switched sometime after Voldemort had placed it here on the island. Undoubtedly, Voldemort had not been aware of the switch, certainly not before he lost his body at Godric's Hollow. Either way, they were now presented with the problem that one of the Horcruxes was now missing.

And until they found it, Voldemort would remain immortal.


	8. Chapter 8 – The Serpent Revealed

**Chapter 8 – The Serpent Revealed**

Two things to say here. Firstly, I'm directly quoting parts of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (particularly the bit in Diagon Alley) which I obviously didn't write myself and, secondly, I'll throw up another Naughtiness! Warning for you sensitive souls that have somehow started reading one of my stories by mistake.

Huge bouncy thanks to Arnel for beta reading.

* * *

"Another bowl, Harry?" Mrs Weasley asked with a warm a smile.

Harry looked down at his empty dish. In truth, he was stuffed to the gills but the trouble was it was just too tempting. With a shameless grin, he handed the bowl to the Weasley matriarch.

"Yes, please, Mrs Weasley."

The woman beamed, and deposited a large dollop of orange jelly into the dish, followed by an even larger amount of vanilla ice cream.

"Eat up, and if you want more then don't be afraid to ask," she told him.

Thanking her enthusiastically, he grabbed his spoon and started to tuck in. Jelly and ice cream! A staple of every good British children's party, yet something he'd never tasted until today. Oh, he'd sat and watched Dudley consume bowls of the stuff many, many times, but he'd always been denied. Somehow, it made the taste of it all the better now.

"If you eat any more of that you'll explode," a voice giggled softly.

He looked up to see Ginny slide into the seat next to him. Her eyes were twinkling with amusement.

"Hey, this stuff is great! Don't blame me if you have such yummy food at your birthday party," he retorted.

"Haven't you ever had jelly and ice cream before?" she asked in surprise. "Don't the Muggles have that?"

"Oh, yeah, it's quite common," he replied unthinkingly, "It's just that I never got given any."

The sudden silence made him look round. The amused expression had vanished from Ginny's face and it had been replaced with a look of anger. Harry knew full well it wasn't directed at him, though.

"Do you really intend to give those disgusting arseholes your money?" she demanded.

Harry looked at her. Apart from Ron and Hermione, he'd never really had anyone in his life so willing to fight his corner. The fact that Ginny was so protective of him filled him with a warm glow.

"Yeah, but it's for my benefit, not theirs," he began to explain. "For years, all I ever heard from them was that I was a burden and that I was costing them money. In truth, I probably cost them a pittance, but the fact remains that they did feed and clothe me, no matter how badly. I don't want to feel indebted to them in any way, and that's why I want to make this payment to them. It probably won't be a huge sum, maybe ten or twenty thousand pounds, but it will mean I don't ever have to feel the smallest amount of gratitude to them ever again. For me, that's priceless."

"Okay, I can kind of see where you're coming from, but I still think they should have been punished, not rewarded," Ginny complained.

"Trust me, from my perspective, it's worth it. I can finally shut that chapter of my life forever and not look back," he assured her.

"Are you sure that Dumbledore won't make you go back?" she asked in a concerned voice.

"He won't have a choice. Besides, the place is becoming too well known. Umbridge was able to send Dementors to Little Whinging, and I don't doubt that the Death Eaters know about the place, too. The protections around the house might be fine for now, but this time next year they'll be worthless. I don't want to become too dependent on Privet Drive as a bolthole, or end up being trapped there with Voldemort's supporters surrounding the place. Better to leave now, when I still have plenty of options about where to go."

"You'll always have a home here," Ginny said passionately.

He reached over and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, luv. Actually, I think I'll be right at home wherever you are."

"Good answer," she grinned. "A bit cheesy, but still pretty good."

"Hey, it's your birthday, I have to suck-up to you today," he smirked.

"Actually, I expect to be worshipped as a goddess every day," she replied snootily.

"Oh, I fully intend to worship at your altar later tonight," he whispered into her ear. They'd already made arrangements that Ginny would be sneaking into his bedroom after everyone had gone to bed. The Silencing Charms the twins had installed made it by far the most appropriate location.

"Good, I'll be expecting another birthday present," she murmured back in a sultry whisper.

"Oi, what are you two up to?" a voice called.

Harry looked over to see George approaching with a stern look on his face. Ginny just sighed and glared at her brother.

"Leave it out, George. You're crap at the whole 'over-protective big brother' thing, so don't even try," she told him firmly.

Instantly, George's expression changed and he beamed at them.

"Nah, I didn't think I'd be able to pull that one off," he smirked. "If anything, I should be mad at Harry for taking so long to ask you out."

"Who says he asked me?" she challenged. "Maybe I thought that he finally deserved the pleasure of my company?"

"Even I'm not stupid enough to try and argue with that," George laughed. "Still, I'm glad to see you two together."

"Thanks, mate," Harry smiled. "I'm amazed how accepting everyone's been actually. Your mum keeps hugging me, your dad keeps clapping me on the shoulder, and even Ron seems happy about it."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure how Bill and Charlie will take it. Bill especially sees this one as still five years old, in pig-tails and knee-high socks."

"Don't exaggerate," Ginny snorted. "Bill was great after… umm, you know. What happened in my first year. He knows I'm not an innocent little girl anymore."

"And what about Charlie?" George pressed.

"Well, bearing in mind I've seen the big git about twice in the last five years, he can keep his opinions to himself," she sniffed.

George turned towards Harry. "You do know what you're getting into, don't you, mate? She's a right little fireball, is this one."

"That's one of the reasons I like her," Harry replied calmly.

"Oh, you've got him well trained already, sis!" George exclaimed admiringly.

"You boys are such simple creatures, it really doesn't take much effort," Ginny smiled.

"I think you should quit while we're behind," Harry advised.

"Too true," George nodded. "So, how is all the summer-time detention going? I gather you've been having lessons every day. That seems a bit harsh, especially bearing in mind you only received the detention for standing up to You-Know-Who and his bootlickers."

"Yeah, well, don't broadcast this, but I kind of asked for those lessons," Harry explained. "After the events at the Ministry, I figured we all needed additional training. If those Death Eaters had been going all-out to kill us, we wouldn't have lasted five minutes. Dumbledore's been teaching me personally in the mornings, and in the afternoons the others join me for more general training. Learning how to Apparate is only a small part of what we've done."

"Really? Cool," George said approvingly. "What other stuff have you learnt?"

"We got the Room of Requirement to create an exact replica of Hogsmeade," Ginny told him. "We've been practicing close quarters fighting. It's been great!"

"We've got Mad-Eye Moody lined up to teach us next. He promised us that he wouldn't be holding back and would be teaching us the same stuff he would teach Auror trainees," Harry added.

"Bloody hell, that's great. It almost makes me wish I was back at school so I could join you," George grinned, before adding, "almost."

"You and Fred would be welcome to join us, you know," Harry offered.

"Nah, we're rushed off our feet as it is. Tempting as the offer is, I think we'll have to decline," George said glumly. "Between trying to produce our normal joke items and all this extra protection stuff that everybody's been clamouring for, we barely have a second to ourselves. I can't believe so many adult witches and wizards can't cast a decent Shield Spell."

"Just look at the Defence teachers we've had in recent years," Ginny pointed out. "Apart from Professor Lupin, they've all been total pants. We probably wouldn't know how if Harry hadn't taught us."

"That's true, I guess," George nodded. "Will you be starting up the D.A. again next term?"

"Yeah, but as a proper club," Harry confirmed. "It's ridiculous that in these times more effort isn't put into teaching people to defend themselves."

"Good man," George nodded. "You know, the way you're going, you could end up with your own private army."

"Really? I never thought of that," Harry lied.

"Of course you didn't," Ginny smirked. "I know you, Potter, you won't be happy until you've turned the world on its head and righted every wrong. For someone who claims not to like pushing himself forward, you're becoming a real leader."

"I'd follow you, mate," George confirmed. "It's never dull when you're around."

"Nah, but I wish it was, sometimes," he replied solemnly.

"Bollocks, you'd be bored within minutes," Ginny laughed. "Harry Potter: man of action! That's you."

He laughed off her joke, but it did give him pause for thought. If he did manage to defeat Voldemort, what would he do then? Did he still want to be an Auror, one small cog in the Ministry's big machine? Or did he want more?

Turning his attention back to his friends, Harry pushed the question from his mind for the moment. It was something he'd have to give some serious thought to later. After he'd had some more jelly and ice cream, of course.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Still awake, then? I was worried you'd drop off," Ginny smirked as soon as she'd activated the Silencing Charms on Harry's bedroom.

"Nah, I've been waiting here patiently," he confirmed.

Currently, he was lying on top of his bed with his arms folded on his chest. Several candles illuminated the room and cast dancing shadows on the walls. With exaggerated slowness, he rolled off the bed and came and stood before his girlfriend.

"So, have you thought about a nice birthday treat for me?" she asked saucily.

"Oh, yes. I've got it all worked out," he grinned, before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the bed.

"Okay, this is a pretty good start," she giggled as he laid her gently down.

"As I said; I've got it all worked out," he repeated, while admiring her shapely legs. She was dressed in her customary nightwear of a t-shirt and her knickers. While he'd been carrying her, her t-shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing the creamy flesh of her flat, toned stomach. It was all Harry could do not to leap on top of her and rip her remaining clothing off completely, but he restrained himself.

"Well? Are you going to do something or are you just going to stand there admiring my magnificence?"

"As it's your birthday, tonight is all about you," he stated. Slowly, he began to remove his own t-shirt. He didn't normally wear one on such warm evenings, but had tonight for the express purpose of removing it for her. He threw the garment casually to one side, noting the hungry look that had appeared in Ginny's beautiful, brown eyes.

Next, he hooked his thumbs into the elastic of his boxer shorts and pushed them down. He let the garment slide down his legs, and stood there, in all his glory, letting his girlfriend watch.

"Bit excited, there, Potter?" Ginny joked, although Harry could hear the raw desire in her voice.

"You always make me excited," he replied before climbing onto the bottom of the bed. He took one of her feet in his hands, and began to kiss it. She watched him with awed anticipation, and then began to giggle when he started sucking her big toe.

"Actually, that's really a turn-on," she admitted after a few moments. "Mmm, don't stop."

As instructed, he continued to suck her toes, one by one. Becoming bored with that, he lowered her foot back onto the bed and began to place soft kisses on her ankle, and then on her lower leg. Slowly, he kissed his way up her body.

By the time he reached her thighs, he could smell her excitement. He'd heard his dorm mates making jokes about such a scent, but to him it was evidence that he was stimulating her. At that exact moment, there was nothing he wanted to do more in the world. Voldemort could wait; he had to pleasure his girlfriend first. His kisses continued higher and higher, until his nose was literally rubbing the material of her knickers.

"Don't you bloody dare stop there," Ginny growled, her voice trembling with excitement.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, and he gently pulled her knickers to one side with his finger. It was the first time he'd seen her sex. Hell, it was the first time he'd seen anyone's, other than in the pages of the magazines that Seamus occasionally showed around. With reverence, he used his fingers to open her to him, blooming like a rosebud.

"Harry…" she breathed.

With his whole body shaking, he leaned forward and began to lick her. Ginny gasped at his touch, and began to moan as he continued his work.

Her groans of pleasure were like music to Harry's ears. She writhed against him, and slipped her fingers into his hair, seemingly desperate to pull his head tighter to her. By this point, she was nearly panting with desire, and he knew she was close to climaxing. Wanting to finally push her over the edge, he slipped two fingers into her and pushed them deep inside. This seemed to do the trick, and Ginny actually screamed as she came. She clamped her thighs tight around his head as her body twitched. It was some time before she released him and she collapsed limply onto the sheet.

Wiping his mouth, he grinned at her. "Was that satisfactory, my lady?" he asked.

"That was bloody mind-blowing!" she slurred. "I think you broke me."

Harry pulled himself up the bed until he was level with her. Propping his head on his hand, he looked admiringly at her. She was still breathing heavily and looked rather red-faced.

"So, you won't want me to do that to you again, then?" he teased.

"Harry James Potter, if I had my way you'd be doing that to me every day for the rest of our lives, and probably twice on Sundays," she told him. "Where the hell did you learn to do that? I know you're a fast learner, Harry, but that was… incredible!"

"Umm, would you believe I read about it in one of those mucky magazines that Seamus has? I used to look at them occasionally when no one was about. One of them had an article about how best to please your witch and, for some reason, I remembered it."

"He's a dirty little git, that Finnegan, isn't he? He really creeps me out," Ginny complained.

"Hey, if you'd ended up going out with Dean, you'd have probably spent a lot of time with him. He's Dean's best mate, after all," he pointed out mildly.

"Yeah, which probably should have been a massive warning to me," Ginny sighed.

"Did you hear back from Dean, at all?" Harry asked, suddenly realising they hadn't discussed it.

"Nah, he doesn't own an owl, so he'd have had to make a special journey to the Diagon Alley Post Office. I guess he didn't think it was worth it," she shrugged. "I just hope he doesn't start any trouble when we get back to Hogwarts."

"If he does, I'll punch his lights out," Harry snarled, suddenly feeling very protective.

"I can look after myself, thank you very much," Ginny replied sharply. "If Dean starts getting funny, I'll deal with it. Got that?"

"Okay, but if he has a pop at me, I reserve the right to take a swing at him," Harry said moodily.

"I suppose you wouldn't be a bloke unless you got all belligerent, would you?" she sighed.

"Hey, I'm not planning on starting anything. I just refuse to stand and take abuse from him, assuming that happens. After all, it's not like you actually went out with him in the end, was it?"

"No, but the male mind is a strange thing. Dean's ego probably took a bruising, so don't you go and start rubbing it in his face, got that?" she said sternly.

"Yeah, yeah; like I'd do that," he replied, slightly offended that she thought he might.

"I know you wouldn't, but I do want you to keep your temper, alright?" Ginny insisted, before sighing tragically. "I was in such a good mood, and now you've spoilt it."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," he apologised, a little shame faced.

"Well, it's still my birthday, and you've upset me, so I think it's only right and proper that you make it up to me," she sniffed.

"Of course, what would you like me to do?" he asked.

An evil smirk appeared on her face. She placed on hand on top of his head and pushed him back down the bed. "You know what I want," she purred.

With a put-upon sigh, Harry positioned himself between his girlfriend's legs once again. There was no rest for the wicked, was there?

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Alright, settle down, you lot," Mad-Eye Moody growled. "In his infinite wisdom, Dumbledore has asked me to teach you brats how to fight. Bearing in mind the piss-poor performance you put up at the Ministry, that's probably not a bad idea."

Harry glanced at his friends, who sat in a semi-circle, looking to see if they'd taken offence at the mangled wizard's words. None of them appeared to have, he noted.

"If Lucius Malfoy and his black-hearted buddies had played hardball, you bunch would have been occupying a nice, cosy wooden box in the ground by now," Moody continued. "It's time to buck-up and get your heads out of your backsides! Got that?"

"Yes, Professor Moody," they all mumble.

"WHAT?" he bellowed.

"YES, PROFESSOR MOODY!" they yelled with considerably more energy.

"Perhaps you all think this is some sort of game?" he growled. "Perhaps you think that this is just some sort of fun diversion you can mess around with, and then go and brag about to your little school chums. WELL, DO YOU?"

"I don't think any of us think that!" Hermione announced primly.

"And what do you know about it, little girl? You'd be better off going home and playing with your doll's house than wasting my time!"

"Doll's house? I haven't had one of those since I was six," she snorted in disgust.

"Trust us, Professor," Harry intervened. "None of us underestimate the seriousness of what we're doing here. We've all seen too much for that."

"Seen too much?" Moody sneered. "What are you talking about, boy? I've seen horrors that would freeze your blood, so don't start whining to me about all the nasty things you and your pals have seen!"

"What about a possessed Professor Quirrell trying to kill me?" Harry snapped. "That was pretty horrific. How about coming face to face with a basilisk? Not to mention getting kidnapped by Voldemort after the Triwizard Tournament."

"Getting attacked by a fully-grown troll in my first year wasn't exactly fun, either," Ron piped up.

"How about being attacked by Dementors? That definitely wasn't a stroll in the park," Hermione added.

"This whole place is dangerous," Neville pointed out fiercely. "Half of Slytherin are the sons and daughters of convicted Death Eaters. Hell, even one of our teachers was a Death Eater!"

"Yes, and the whole school is infested with Blibbering Humdingers! They're very dangerous," Luna added.

"Not to mention that little jaunt at the Ministry, where, as you pointed out, we all could have ended up killed," Harry said hurriedly. "Frankly, Professor, I've seen too many dead bodies not to take this seriously."

Moody looked at them all shrewdly with his good eye.

"I was actually giving you a bit of the welcome speech I give to Auror recruits. It appears you bunch of kids have actually seen more action than ninety-nine percent of them have! Alright, I'll dispense with the histrionics, and get down to business. I have to ask before we begin, however, do you lot really want me to push you to your limits? Everyone always says they do, but in my experience very few of them like the results."

Harry looked at his friends again, who were all exchanging nervous glances. Then, seemingly as one, they all turned to look at him with the same determined expressions on their faces. Harry smiled grimly.

"I'd say we'll all give it our best shot, Professor," Harry announced, looking at the scarred wizard firmly.

"Good lad," he nodded approvingly. "Right, enough talk! Let's have you on your feet. Let's see how well you can all protect yourselves against a few nice, friendly hexes."

Harry pulled out his wand. He suspected it was going to be a long afternoon.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It was a murky, overcast day as the Weasley family, plus a few additions, made their way into Diagon Alley. Harry found himself weighed down by a jingling money bag that Bill had thoughtfully already withdrawn from Gringotts for his use. The eldest Weasley boy had also arranged for a direct payment to be made into the Dursley's bank account for him. Twenty thousand pounds wasn't exactly a life changing sum, but it wasn't to be sniffed at, either. Harry doubted that it would have done much to raise his family's opinion of him, however.

As they walked down the alley, Hermione looked around mournfully.

"This place is looking really depressing, what with both Fortescue and Ollivander's shops being closed," she noted.

"I'm really sad about Fortescue being taken," Harry told them. "He was a really nice bloke. I wonder what the Death Eaters would want with him?"

"Well, now, Harry, we can't be sure they did take him. There was no sign of a struggle and some of his things were gone. It might have been that he just decided to flee the country," Mr Weasley pointed out.

"Yeah, but didn't Remus say that the day's takings were left sitting on the counter? Surely he would have taken every Knut he had if he was running," Ron pointed out.

Mr Weasley just shrugged, clearly as confused by the whole thing as they were.

"I think we'd better head off to Madam Malkin's first," Mrs Weasley announced. "Ron's robes are nearly up to his knees, and you've grown a great deal, too, Harry. Come on, everyone."

"Molly, it doesn't make sense for all of us to go to Madam Malkin's," Mr Weasley objected. "Why don't you take those three to get their robes, and I'll take Ginny to Flourish and Blotts to…"

"Actually, Dad, I'd rather stay with this lot," Ginny said firmly.

"Wow, she's not letting you out of her sight, mate," Ron sniggered.

"Well, of course not," Ginny sniffed. "If I'm not there to keep an eye on Harry, he's bound to do something daft. Hermione's already got her work cut out keeping you out of trouble, Ron; she can't be expected to watch him, too."

"Explain to me again just why it is that you like my sister?" Ron asked Harry sourly.

"Someone did say she came from a very good family," Harry smiled.

"Ah, I thought there must be a reason for it," Ron nodded.

"Come on, you lot," Mrs Weasley laughed. "Arthur can start making a dent on the book lists while we get you all sorted out."

They headed over to the little shop in good spirits. Their mood lasted until they entered and heard an instantly recognisable voice from somewhere behind a rack of dress robes.

"… not a child, in case you hadn't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone!"

"Oh, no," Ron moaned. "Why did HE have to be here?"

A second later, Draco Malfoy, wearing a handsome set of dark green robes and a disgruntled expression, emerged from behind the rack. He strode over to a mirror to look at his reflection. It was a few moments before he caught sight of Harry and his friends.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in," Malfoy drawled.

"Young man, you need to learn some manners!" Mrs Weasley instantly scolded him.

A second later, a tall, blonde-haired witch strode imperiously passed the robe rack. She took one look at the assembled group before a look of extreme distaste appeared on her face.

"You will not address my son in that manner," she told Molly snidely.

"Then your son needs to learn to keep a civil tongue in his head!" Mrs Weasley retorted. "None of us wish to hear offensive langue like that!"

"Offensive langue? I heard nothing of that ilk," Mrs Malfoy sneered. "Draco was merely being descriptive."

Molly Weasley looked so angry at this reply that Harry almost took a step back from her. The Malfoy woman looked untroubled, however, which led Harry to believe she was either incredibly brave or immensely stupid and, judging by the woman's choice in husbands, he was inclined to believe the latter.

"How dare you!" Molly raged. "Decent people do not use the 'M' word, but I suppose that counts you out, doesn't it, Narcissa?"

"Watch your mouth, Weasley, it might get you into a lot of trouble," the blonde woman spat back.

"Ladies, please!" a harassed-looking Madam Malkin begged as she emerged into view.

"Keep out of this, you measly shop-hand," Narcissa shouted, before turning on Molly again. "You need to learn your station in life, woman! You should know not to give lip your betters!"

"Betters? Ha!" Molly growled back. "Show me my better, and I might, but as it stands, all I see is a stuck-up, delusional cow, who can't even teach her own son proper behaviour. Mind you, with a criminal for a father, you can't expect much of the lad, can you?"

"You fat, uncouth bitch!" Mrs Malfoy roared, her polished manner vanishing. "My husband is a hero! One day, not long from now, Lucius will be hailed as a liberator; a brave wizard who fought valiantly to protect our society from filth like that wretch standing over there!"

The moment Mrs Malfoy pointed a manicured finger at Hermione, three wands instantly appeared, all directed at her.

"Ron… Harry… Ginny… no!" Hermione begged. "It's not worth it."

"Point those wands away from me, you ignorant brats!" Narcissa raged.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco reaching into his new robes, no doubt to pull out his own wand. Harry shifted his aim.

"Don't even think about it, Draco," Harry growled threateningly. "You so much as twitch and I'll smear you all over that back wall."

"Don't you dare threaten my son! If I see your lips as much as move, I swear it will be the last thing you ever do!" Narcissa howled, pulling out her own wand.

As fast as she was, Molly was faster, and had her own wand pointed directly between the Malfoy matriarch's eyes in flash. Narcissa froze.

"Please! No wands, no wands!" Madam Malkin sobbed.

"Well, Narcissa? Want to try your luck?" Molly challenged.

Mrs Malfoy let her hand drop, before she straightened her back and stared at Molly with hatred in her eyes.

"Your time is coming," she hissed. "You and that idiot husband of yours. It won't be long before Dumbledore and all his Muggle-loving ilk are cast down, and the true wizards and witches are placed in charge. Enjoy these last days of peace, Molly Weasley, because, for you, they will be ending very soon. Come, Draco, we don't want to associate with the kind of scum they let in here."

Without another word, Narcissa Malfoy gracefully swept out of the shop. Draco pulled the robes he'd been trying on over his head, and threw them to the floor, before hurrying after his mother. He glared at them with undisguised hatred as he left.

"Well, really!" Madam Malkin huffed.

"You can put your wands away now, children," Molly said sternly.

"That was bloody brilliant, Mum!" Ron exclaimed enthusiastically. "That snooty cow couldn't get out of here fast enough!"

"Yeah, you were fantastic," Ginny agreed.

"Really, you didn't need to stand up for me, Mrs Weasley… but thank you that you did," Hermione smiled.

"Oh, now, I was just standing up for common decency," Molly said, but Harry could see that her cheeks were flushed red from the praise she received.

"You were great, Mrs Weasley," Harry added. "Really great."

"Oh, nonsense. Come on, there's still robes to be bought," she insisted.

She might have brushed it off, but Harry noticed a distinct spring in Molly Weasley's step as she led them all to the back of the shop.

They took around half an hour to make all their purchases at Madam Malkin's, with the owner muttering to herself constantly with barely concealed outrage at the behaviour of the Malfoys. Not that Harry was going to argue with her anytime soon. They then headed to Flourish and Blotts where they met up with a harassed-looking Mr Weasley who was desperately trying to balance a stack of books in one arm while peering hopelessly at the book list in his other. Together, they soon managed to find everything that was required and, after a brief stop at Eeylops, they headed over to Fred and George's new shop.

Harry couldn't help bursting into laughter as soon as he caught sight of the shop. Everywhere else in Diagon Alley seemed grey and depressing, no doubt due to the climate of fear and the number of recent disappearances, but Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes stood out like a beacon of light in the middle of the gloom.

While he would never claim to know anything about decoration or art, Harry was pretty certain that the riot of different colours that the shop was painted in had been picked purely on the basis that they would clash horribly with each other. The windows looked like a miniature indoor firework display were taking place inside them, and various flashing signs advertised assorted wares.

"They'll be murdered in their beds," Mrs Weasley whispered fearfully.

"Knowing Fred and George, I very much doubt they would have left the shop unprotected. I expect that any Death Eater who did try and attack them would end up with more than they bargained for," Harry reassured her.

"Yeah, those two are far too sneaky to be caught," Ginny agreed.

"I hope you're right," Molly sighed.

They entered the shop and were soon greeted by the proprietors themselves, both dressed in bright magenta robes and wearing the same gleeful expressions.

"Hi, everyone. How are you all?" George asked.

"I doubt we have to ask our lovely little sister how she is. I bet she's on cloud nine after finally bagging herself the Boy Who Lived, eh?" Fred added.

"It was only a matter of time before he fell to my charms," Ginny grinned. "The shop looks great, by the way!"

"Not bad, is it?" Fred agreed proudly. "We're doing quite nicely, I do have to say."

"But these aren't our real money-spinners," George noted. "Come round the back."

The twins led them to a darker, less crowded room at the back. Numerous shelves were arranged around the room, and the packages they displayed were infinitely more subdued than the ones outside.

"These are our range of Defence products. We've already sold five hundred Shield Hats to the Ministry. It's amazing how many people can't even produce a decent Shield Charm themselves," George noted in disgust.

"Yeah, and we've expanded the range, now, too. We've got Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves…" Fred chipped in.

"Good against minor to moderate hexes and jinxes, but no use against an Unforgivable, obviously. We've just introduced other items, as well. Look, this Instant Darkness Powder is made in Peru and is great for hasty escapes," George said enthusiastically.

"Our Decoy Detonators are flying off the shelves, too! Just drop one surreptitiously and it will run off and make an unholy noise, giving you a perfect diversion if you need one. I tell you, we're making a mint with all this stuff," Fred announced, rubbing his hands together.

"Not to mention it's all really useful," Hermione noted. "There's some really advanced magic here."

"Oh, how sweet of you to say, Hermione. But you always were the intelligent one out of this bunch," George beamed.

"Yeah, it kind of makes me wonder how you ended up with Ron," Fred sniggered.

"Oi!" Ron protested.

"You know, this stuff is great," Harry agreed thoughtfully. "Just think, the biggest problem you're faced with in a duel is deciding when to cast offensive spells and when to Shield. If you're wearing some of this kit, you'd be able to be a lot more aggressive in a fight, knowing that you've already got a Shield Charm in place."

"Trust you to think in those terms, Harry. Haven't you had enough of duelling Death Eaters?" Fred asked wryly.

"Actually, I wasn't thinking about me. Remember that I told you that I'm going to continue Dumbledore's Army next term as a proper club? Some of this stuff would be perfect for the club members to use."

"Err, as much as we want to help, this stuff does cost a bit to manufacture. We're pretty much snowed under with orders as it is, too," George said apologetically.

"Oh, I don't need them now. I was thinking maybe before Christmas? Let's say a hundred assorted gloves, cloaks and hats, and I'll pay the going rate for them. Sirius left me quite a bit of money and I can't think of a better use for it," Harry told them.

Fred immediately leapt forward and grabbed Harry's hand, which he began to shake enthusiastically.

"You've got yourself a deal, partner!" he cried. "Oh, and forget about the 'going rate'. You'll be getting them at a big discount."

"Absolutely," George agreed, grabbing Harry's free hand and shaking that, too. "You'll definitely have them before December, I promise."

"Thanks, guys, now can I have my hands back, please?" Harry asked pleadingly.

Laughing, they headed back into the main part of the shop, where the twins immediately tried to sell Hermione one of their WonderWitch Hair Care treatment kits. To be fair, Hermione did seem quite interested.

"Hey, look, Harry," Ginny urgently whispered while pointing out the window. Harry turned in time to see Draco Malfoy hurrying past the shop. He glanced nervously over his shoulder as he walked.

"I wonder where his mummy is," Harry said, frowning.

"I don't know, but he looks like he's up to no good," Ginny noted.

Harry made a decision. "Come on, everyone else is busy, let's slip out and follow him."

"He'll spot us for sure," Ginny objected even as she followed him to the door.

"I've got my Invisibility Cloak with me," he replied.

"Brilliant! Let's get after him," she agreed in a determined tone.

No one noticed the pair of them vanish from sight as they ducked under the cloak and out the door. Harry was glad it was just Ginny with him, as she was so small that the cloak comfortably covered the both of them.

Fortunately, they were sufficiently quick that they soon caught up with Malfoy, despite the boy's rapid pace. Harry was unsurprised when the blonde young man turned left suddenly and headed into Knockturn Alley. Cursing that he hadn't thought to cast a Silencing Charm on them, they followed Malfoy as close as they dared, with the result that they were right on his heels when he stopped and pushed open the door of a sinister-looking shop.

Harry nearly stopped, content to just observe the boy through the window, but Ginny grabbed him and dragged him into the shop just before the door swung closed. As soon as he was inside, Harry realised that the place was familiar: Borgin and Burkes, where he'd inadvertently ended up after his first ever Floo journey. It was just the sort of place Draco was likely to visit.

Draco strode arrogantly up to Mr Borgin, the oily-haired owner of the shop, and glared at him.

"Do you have the object I requested?" Draco demanded.

"Of course, Master Malfoy. It's out the back, out of sight of prying eyes," Borgin confirmed in a polite manner.

"And what about the matching cabinet? Do you know how to fix it?"

"Possibly," Borgin said uncertainly. "I'll need to see it though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?"

"I can't," Malfoy said. "It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."

"Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" Malfoy sneered. "Perhaps this will make you more confident."

From where they were standing, Harry and Ginny had a clear view as Malfoy pulling up the sleeve of his robes and brandishing his left forearm at Borgin. There, clearly displayed on Draco's arm, was a Dark Mark.

Harry felt his girlfriend stiffen at the sight of it, but she sensibly kept quiet. For his part, Harry could barely believe that Draco would be so stupid as to take the Mark, or that Voldemort would even want a mere schoolboy.

"Tell anyone and there will be retributions," Draco growled. "You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend, and he'll be dropping by from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."

"There will be no need for…"

"I'll decide that," said Malfoy. "Well, I'd better be off. Don't forget to keep that one safe, I'll need it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"

"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid little man. How would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."

"Of course not… sir."

Borgin bowed deeply as Draco swaggered out of the shop. Ginny started to follow him, but Harry grabbed her shoulder and held her in place. Borgin stood and watched as the Malfoy heir hurried away.

"Arrogant little prick," the man growled, and then began to shuffle towards the back of the shop.

"Let's see if we can find out what that object Malfoy was talking about is," Harry whispered to his girlfriend. She said nothing, but nodded briefly in understanding.

As quietly as they could, they crept after Borgin, following him through a small doorway into a back room which was packed with all manner of weird objects. Harry watched the shop owner as he walked slowly over to a battered-looking, black, wooden box, which stood nearly six feet high. The stooped wizard ran his hand up the side of the box with a disgusted look on his face.

"How am I supposed to know how to repair the other cabinet without even seeing the bloody thing?" he muttered to himself.

Having seen all he need to see, Harry gently pulled Ginny back the way they had come. Wanting to get out of the shop as quickly as possible, he ignored the tinkling shop bell as he pulled the front door open and headed back into the Alley. Through the window he saw Borgin come to investigate the noise, and frown at the sight of his empty shop. Not wasting any time, he and Ginny hurried back to the twins' shop, where they found a disgruntled Ron and Hermione waiting for them.

"Where have you been?" Ron demanded. "Did you two sneak out to snog?"

"No, Ron, we saw Draco go by, so we followed him," Ginny told her brother angrily.

"You could have come and grabbed us," Hermione said irritably. "Where did he go?"

"To Borgin and Burkes," Harry replied. "It seems that Draco is very interested in obtaining a working pair of Vanishing Cabinets."

"Was that what that box was?" Ginny asked. "How did you know about it?"

"Because Dumbledore pointed one out to me quite recently. In fact, I'm willing to bet it was the very same one that Draco was keen to know how to repair. It's currently sitting in the Room of Requirement."

"I'm not familiar with these cabinets," Hermione admitted. "What does it do?"

"Well, I could be wrong, but I suspect that if you had a matching pair of these things, you could step into one and reappear out of the other, no matter how far apart they were."

"And what would be the benefit of that?" Ron asked. "It would be easier to use the Floo, wouldn't it?"

"How about if one of the cabinets was tucked away safely inside Hogwarts, and the other was in the hands of a bunch of Death Eaters, who wanted to get into the school and bypass all the protective spells that are in place?" Harry pointed out.

"He wouldn't!" Hermione gasped. "I know he's a nasty little brat, but he wouldn't do anything like that!"

"Oh, that's the other thing we found out," Ginny said wryly. "Draco's got a Dark Mark."

"What? No bloody way!" Ron all but shouted.

"Keep your voice down!" Harry snapped. "And no, Ginny isn't joking. We both clearly saw it on his arm. He waved it in Borgin's face to intimidate him."

"But why would he do such a stupid thing?" Hermione demanded, still sounding somewhat disbelieving.

"Perhaps he didn't have a choice," Harry shrugged, "but that isn't important right now. What matters is that if he succeeds in repairing that cabinet, Voldemort will have the perfect means of smuggling a load of Death Eaters right into Hogwarts."

Ron and Hermione stared at him in horror.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"What do you mean, you're not going to do anything about it?" Harry practically screamed.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and favoured him with a fatherly smile. Just a year before, Harry would have taken such a gesture as a sign he'd overlooked something and reassurance that the old wizard had the matter all in hand. These days, however, that smile just wanted to make him punch the headmaster in the face.

"You can't judge someone on something that they may potentially do in the future, Harry. Draco Malfoy may have taken the Dark Mark, but I very much doubt he did so willingly. Bearing in mind his father's recent incarceration in Azkaban, I suspect this was just a move by Voldemort to ensure he keeps control of the Malfoy fortune. I will not condemn the poor lad when he has yet to commit any crime."

"Bollocks. What about the Vanishing Cabinets? They're obviously a ploy to allow Death Eaters into the school. Are you going to sit back and let that happen?" Harry challenged angrily.

"Draco will be watched. Closely," Dumbledore promised.

Harry stared at the old wizard as if he was mad.

"Are you joking? To know about the cabinet, Malfoy must have found a way into the Room of Requirement. Once he locks himself in there, he could be up to anything and no one, not even you, will be able to see what he's up to. What if he succeeds in repairing the cabinet and Death Eaters manage to get in?"

"Vanishing Cabinets are tricky things, my boy. I very much doubt that young Mr Malfoy will have much luck in repairing it."

"He's getting help, remember?" Harry raged. "He might not be able to figure it out, but I bet that slimy bastard Borgin will. If you're not prepared to expel Draco, then we need to destroy the cabinet just to be on the safe side."

"Harry, if we do that, we will effectively be condemning Draco to death. Voldemort does not look kindly on failure, and will deal harshly with Mr Malfoy if he believes the plan failed because of his actions. We need to contain the situation, while at the same time not pointing the finger of blame at Draco."

With his temper rising, Harry glared at the headmaster. He'd believed that the two of them had been building bridges of late, but now the gap between them seemed vaster than ever.

"Tell me, Headmaster, do you think life is fair?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore signed. "I know what you're going to say, Harry, but that does not mean we shouldn't do everything in our power to try and preserve the life of Draco Malfoy, as ill-considered as some of his choices have been."

"Draco is a racist," Harry declared flatly. "He pushes a pure-blood agenda openly, wants to see the subjugation of Muggles and the Muggleborn, and holds nothing but contempt for those he thinks are below him. Despite what you say, you cannot take the Dark Mark unless you are willing, and I don't give a toss if he took it to save that bastard of a father of his. Get this through your head: Draco Malfoy is plotting to allow Death Eaters into this castle. I don't care what his motivation is, he has to be stopped."

"Harry, you must understand that Draco has very little choice…" Dumbledore began.

"Neither did my parents when Voldemort decided to kill them. Poor Cedric didn't have much of a choice, either. Come to think of it, I doubt any of Voldemort's victims had much of a choice, other than not to cave in and surrender to that snake-eyed bastard."

Dumbledore looked at him sadly.

"When Draco was in Borgin and Burkes, he mentioned the name Fenrir Greyback. Can you imagine what will happen if Greyback is one of the Death Eaters who manages to get into Hogwarts? Just think what the results would be if he managed to get into, say, the Hufflepuff common room? I understand he has a weakness for young children."

The old wizard did at least have the decency to look horrified at that idea.

"Harry, I promise you that we will watch Draco like a hawk. If it ever seems likely that he will succeed in his goal, we'll stop him instantly," Dumbledore assured him.

"Not good enough," Harry replied grimly. "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened and I knew I had the chance to stop it."

"Harry…"

"STOP WITH THIS 'HARRY' SHIT!" he bellowed. "You might be happy to gamble with lives, but I'm not!"

Harry's comment appeared to hit the old man like a slap in the face.

"I'm giving you a choice, sir," Harry stated coldly. "Either we go to the Room of Requirement right now and burn that bloody cabinet into cinders, or come the Welcoming Feast I will stand up in the middle of the Great Hall and openly declare Draco to be a Death Eater. I'll make sure an Auror or two is around when I do it, too. One look at his left arm will be all the proof I need. With his daddy in prison and unable to throw a few bribes around, I doubt poor little Draco will avoid getting a nice cell right next to Lucius."

"Then it appears you give me little choice. We will go and destroy the cabinet immediately," the old wizard agreed in a defeated voice.

"I understand your reasons for not wanting to do this, sir, I really do, but lives could be at stake here. This is no time to be messing around and playing games."

"No, Harry, and bearing in mind my past mistakes, I can entirely understand why you do not want to take the risk. Maybe I'm a fool for wanting to try and save Mr Malfoy and perhaps taking a few risks to do so, but I'm afraid isn't in my nature not to at least attempt it."

"Which is why we'll never win. We're at war, sir, and in war the compassionate, kindly side will always lose. We didn't start this conflict, but we owe it to every decent witch and wizard out there to try and end it as quickly and efficiently as possible. Sometimes that means we have to be a bit ruthless. Just like you were prepared to be with me," Harry noted quietly.

Nodding sadly, the old man stood and headed towards the door. As Harry started to follow, he was sure he saw a tear running down Dumbledore's cheek.


	9. Chapter 9 – Of Love and Death

**Chapter 9 – Of Love and Death**

Another naughtiness warning, Brennus? Pushing it a bit, aren't you? Hopefully after this chapter you'll all see why I've been so keen to throw Harry and Ginny together. See, there was a plan all along!

Actually, there's quite a lot of foreshadowing in this chapter, but it probably won't be evident until the very end of the story, which rather makes even mentioning it a waste of time. Duh. Oh, and I will not look kindly on any comments that I was straying close to Willy Wonka territory during the scene in the Room of Requirement.

Huge thanks to Arnel. Despite her assurances, I'm still in shock over the number of corrections this chapter needed! I'd been doing so well lately, too… sob.

* * *

Harry lay on his bed with Ginny in his arms. The hour was late, but neither of them felt like sleeping. The feeling of her soft flesh under his fingers was enough to drive him wild, as was the delicious taste of her moist lips. His head swam from her intoxicating scent. Frankly, much more of this was going to drive him over the edge.

"Harry?" Ginny murmured in a sultry voice.

"Mmm?" he half-replied, more interested in leaving a trail of kisses down her neck

"I… oh, that feels bloody good," she gasped. "Ugh, stop a second, luv, I need to talk with you."

"What?" he asked, looking up a little irritably.

"You know we're heading back to Hogwarts next week?" she said firmly, ignoring his sulky pout.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about what happens when we get there. You know we won't be able to creep into each other's beds like we do at the moment, right?"

"Umm, I guess not," he admitted. Truthfully, he hadn't given the matter much thought, but now that he did, he really didn't like the implications of it. "Still, I'm sure that we can find a nice out-of-the-way classroom, or there's always the Room of Requirement."

"Yeah, but we're going to have to be really careful, Harry," she told him in a serious tone. "Imagine what would happen if McGonagall caught us like this, or worst still, Snape!"

Harry frowned; not only would it be mortifyingly embarrassing to be caught in a compromising position by the greasy bastard, he wouldn't put past the git to use it to his full advantage. At best, Snape would ensure that he and Ginny were publicly humiliated. At worst they would be expelled. The image of Molly Weasley's tearful face suddenly popped into his head. As much as he hated to admit it, Ginny was making a very good point.

"Yeah, I get what you're saying," Harry sighed. "I guess we'll have to behave ourselves next term."

"Exactly, which is why I think we should make the most of the time we have left," she said purposefully.

"That was just what I was trying to do!" he smirked, and began to nibble at her neck again.

"Harry!" she protested. "What I'm trying to say is… I'm on the Potion."

"Potion?" he repeated dimly, before the Knut dropped. "Oh, THAT Potion. How in Merlin's name did you arrange that?"

"I've been on it a while. It helps with my time of the month," she admitted. "Plus, well, I think a lot of young witches are taking it now. You hear so many terrible stories about what the Death Eaters do, and no mother would want her daughter to be forced to bear the child of one of those bastards."

Harry stared at her in horror, appalled at the thought that any young witch could have to be worried about being raped by one of Voldemort's cronies, let alone Ginny.

"Anyway, I just… I mean… look, I'm ready, okay?" she told him nervously.

"Really?" he gasped, suddenly consumed by fear and desire in equal measures.

"Really," she assured him.

"Oh, well, that's really… oh, bugger!" he moaned.

"What? What's the matter?" she asked in alarm.

"Look, I know this sounds daft, but I promised your mum that I wouldn't get up to anything inappropriate with you under her roof," he told her miserably.

"It's a bit bloody late for that!" Ginny snorted.

"I know we've been pushing things lately, but going all the way really would be breaking my promise to her."

"I don't believe it!" she snapped. "Are you really turning down the chance to shag just because of some stupid promise you made to my mother?"

"Your mum's been great to me, I just couldn't break my word," Harry said lamely.

"Wait a minute; you said 'under her roof', right?" Ginny asked.

"That's right," he confirmed.

"Well, it's a lovely warm night, and I'm sure no one will hear us up in the orchard," she purred.

A huge grin split Harry's face. "See, this is why I love you so much. You always find clever solutions to difficult problems," he smirked.

"Ha, I bet," she giggled. "You know, I think it would be easier if we undressed here and just Apparated out there."

"Yeah, and we can take the Cloak of Invisibility, too, just to be on the safe side."

"Good idea," she confirmed before rolling off the bed and standing up. "Well, are we going to do this or not?"

"Definitely!" he exclaimed before hastily scrambling to his feet. They stood looking at each other awkwardly for a moment, before Ginny purposely reached down and grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head.

Although he'd seen her topless a few times now, it was all he could do to keep from falling to his knees and loudly offering his thanks to whatever deity might be listening. When she put her hands on her hips and gave him a pointed look, it occurred to him that maybe he should be disrobing, too.

His own t-shirt came off relatively easy, although he did manage to catch one arm in a sleeve which took a bit of manipulation to free himself. Unfortunately, his in his haste to rid himself of his boxer shorts he lost his balance and fell face-first back onto the bed. Behind him he heard Ginny sniggering.

"Bit keen, are you?" she chortled.

Harry managed to push his boxers off his ankles and stood, intending to confront her… but instead stopped dead in his tracks. Ginny stood before him without a stich on. He'd never seen anything more wonderful in his life.

"You're… you're so beautiful," he gasped, and it was true. Ginny Weasley might have only been fifteen years old, but already her body was maturing magnificently. Her slim frame had begun to develop noticeable curves, and her breasts, while not huge by any stretch of the imagination, were perfect. A light sprinkling of freckles across her shoulders and upper chest stood out against her creamy-white flesh, and made his knees go weak. She was incredible.

"Blimey, I am a lucky girl, aren't I?" Ginny gulped, and it suddenly occurred to Harry that she was looking at his naked form with the same lustful stares that he was probably giving her. Unable to restrain himself, he leapt forward and grabbed her. Their lips met in a fierce kiss.

"Quick, let's Apparate out to the orchard," Ginny begged in a needy voice. Without thinking, Harry Apparated them both out into the wood, to the place that they had come to think of as 'their spot'.

"Whoa! Give me some bloody notice if you're going to do that next time!" Ginny complained, but her protestations were cut short as his lips again found hers. Greedily, they ran their hands over each other's bodies, desperately trying to touch as much of the other's flesh as possible. Harry's mind was in near melt-down when Ginny pulled away from him and gave him a smouldering look.

"I can't wait any longer," she practically growled. "Put the cloak down on the grass, Harry."

Slightly amazed that he'd actually remembered to bring the damn thing, Harry quickly laid his father's precious Invisibility Cloak onto the springy grass, casually pondering that, from what he knew of his slightly disrespectable dad, James Potter would be extremely approving of the use it was about to be put to.

As soon as the cloak was laid out, Ginny hurriedly laid herself down on it. Seeing her laying there in the pale moonlight was almost too much for him. Trying to regain a bit of composure, he looked up into the clear, star-filled sky and took in a deep breath of the scented night-air. Although he'd never admitted it to anyone, he'd harboured a deep fear that Voldemort would kill him before he'd ever had a chance to have sex and that he'd die a virgin. It appeared that concern was about to be taken care of. Hurriedly, he flopped down on the ground next to her.

"Please, Harry, I… I need you inside me," Ginny begged, the palm of her hand running up and down his torso. Whatever control he had up to that point vanished, and he flung himself down between her legs.

They began to kiss feverishly, and Harry began to run his right hand over her young, firm body, first cupping her breast, before eagerly traveling downwards. He found she was wet and ready for him.

"Don't tease me, you bastard," Ginny snarled. "Do it!"

Unable to resist any longer, he lower himself down onto her. At first, he couldn't find her entrance, but she reached down and used her hand to guide him in. He gasped out loud as he sank into her velvety warmth.

"OH, YES!" Ginny all but screamed as he pushed inside her. He felt her hands grab his backside, pulling him in deeper, and he didn't resist. Once he was in as far as he would go, he looked into her eyes and saw a heart-stopping mix of lust and love in those bright, brown orbs.

"Ginny…" he murmured, before his hips began to move of their own volition. She moaned each time he gently thrust into her, each vocalisation exciting Harry all the more.

Soon he found a steady pace, and let his mind wander as his body experienced new sensations that he could barely believe existed. This was the most wonderful thing that he could ever imagine; not only did it feel utterly amazing but his girlfriend's groans of pleasure were blowing his mind. He realised that he was obtaining as much joy and excitement from Ginny's pleasure as he was his own. They were linked in ecstasy; heart, body and mind and it was the greatest thing he'd ever experienced in his life.

Harry felt the intense excitement building within him and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. Desperately, he tried to hang on and he slowed his pace, somewhat, but Ginny's growl of displeasure soon stopped that. Unable and unwilling to control himself, he started to buck against her fiercely, causing her moans of pleasure to turn into near animalistic screams and for her body to writhe under him.

"Ginny, I can't hold on much longer," he managed to grind out with his whole body shaking.

"Please, just a little more… little more…" she begged.

A loud clap of thunder caused him to look up abruptly. His jaw dropped open as he saw the previously clear skies were now filled with ominous, grey clouds, occasionally illuminated with flashes of lightning. The air suddenly tasted dry, like it was charged with a massive electric current. The next clap of thunder literally made the ground shake.

"Harry, please, don't stop," Ginny insisted. "I'm so nearly… bloody hell!"

"What?" he asked in a panic as Ginny's eyes went wide. Despite his alarm, he couldn't stop thrusting into her, however.

"The colours! I can see all these strange colours twisting about me!" she exclaimed. "Harry, it's just like the way you described all that magical energy you've been trying to tap into! I can see it!"

"What are… oh, god… I can't… I…" he started to say, before he was interrupted by his body coming to climax. His mind dissolved as all he was aware of was the incredible, earthshattering feeling of ecstasy that engulfed him. He shook uncontrollably, and the whole wonderful experience seemed to last an age, before his vision cleared and he became still.

"Fuck," Ginny gasped.

"You said it," he slurred and collapsed on the ground next to her. He was panting heavily and unable to form anything approaching coherent thought, let alone speech.

A huge flash of lightning brought him to his senses. He looked up, and was amazed to see the clouds racing across the sky at a frantic pace. He had never seen a storm like it, and he could feel his skin tingling from the sheer energy that was in the air.

"It's so beautiful."

Ginny's voice was filled with such reverence that Harry looked over at her in shock. She was still lying on her back, with one hand outstretched like she was trying to touch some invisible object in front of her. Vividly, Harry remembered the first time he'd seen the swirling clouds of ambient energy that surrounded them. But why was she seeing it now? Dumbledore had said that only a handful of witches and wizards were capable of that feat, why had his girlfriend suddenly developed that ability?

"Over there! I'm sure I saw something," cried an all-too familiar voice from somewhere nearby.

"Shit! Get under the cloak!" Harry exclaimed and rolled off the Invisibility Cloak that he'd been laying on. Ginny, suddenly roused from her stupor by the sound of her father's voice, did likewise. Quickly, Harry grabbed the cloak and pulled it over them. They then huddled back into the long grass and tried to be as silent as possible.

"Arthur, what's going on? What is all this?" came the distressed voice of Molly Weasley.

As Harry stared out into the darkened wood, Arthur Weasley suddenly came into view, walking warily forward with his wand extended out in front of him. A second later, his wife joined him, looking around her fearfully.

"I'm not sure, Molly," Arthur admitted, his voice barely audible in the storm. "The Ministry's Patronus just said they'd detected a massive surge of magic right here! Quite what's causing all this, I have no clue."

"I've never seen a storm like this," Molly said, looking up at the sky nervously. "Is it natural?"

"I don't think so," Arthur said, shaking his head. "You can practically taste the magic in the air. Quite what the Muggles will think of all this is anyone's guess."

Harry frowned and realised that Mr Weasley was right. What he'd passed off as electrical energy from the storm was raw magic. He let his eyes unfocus slightly and saw huge clouds of near-luminescent magic twisting and turning like they were caught in a whirlwind. He'd never seen anything like it before.

"Oh, Arthur!" Molly suddenly gasped. "You don't think… HE's here, do you?"

"I hope not, but there's a chance that he and his Death Eaters might be trying to take down the protective wards around the Burrow," Arthur admitted anxiously.

"We should get back to the children," Molly insisted, already half turning to leave.

"No, let's stick together for the moment," Arthur disagreed. "The wards only extend to the edge of the orchard, so let's have a quick look to see if anyone's there before we head back. It will be safer with two of us."

"You're right. Come on, let's have a look, but be careful!" Molly said in a worried voice.

A few moments later, both the Weasleys vanished into the darkness.

"Quick, let's get back to your room!" Ginny whispered in a panicky voice. Harry just nodded and grabbed her, Apparating the pair of them instantly. This time, his girlfriend didn't admonish him for not warning her.

"What the hell just happened?" she demanded as soon as they were safety back in his room.

"I have absolutely no bloody idea," he admitted. "That storm was just… incredible."

"Is Voldemort out there?" she demanded.

"No, I… I kind of think we might have caused it," he said quietly.

"Us? How could we possibly cause all that?"

"No idea, but then again I've no idea why you should suddenly be able to see magical energy, either," he said pointedly.

Ginny chewed her lower lip worriedly for a moment. "Do you think it was something to do with us, you know, doing it?" she asked.

Harry nodded, "But how or why, I couldn't tell you," he said.

Ginny sat on the edge of his bed and looked thoughtful, before her eyes went wide.

"Merlin, I'd better get dressed and back to my bedroom!" she exclaimed. "Mum could be back at any moment and I bet she'll want to check on us."

Quickly, the pair of them dressed in their discarded clothes. Ginny was about to hurry out the door when she paused, and quickly ran back to Harry.

"That was amazing!" she said, grabbing him in a tight hug. "I never dreamed my first time would be so great. Thank you."

"No, thank you," he laughed. "It was unbelievable, wasn't it? I can't wait to do it again."

"Are we going to set off a storm like this every time we shag?" Ginny asked worriedly.

"I bloody hope not," he frowned. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

"Yeah," she nodded before heading for the door. "Night, Harry. I love you."

And with that, she was gone.

Harry climbed back into bed and extinguished the light. He lay there for a moment, listening to the storm that was still raging outside and for sounds of Mrs Weasley's imminent approach. His mind was racing with a thousand conflicting thoughts as he tried to figure out what had just happened. Suddenly, a thought struck him and he sat bolt upright in his bed.

"Bloody hell, I just lost my virginity!" he gasped.

Try as he might, Harry was unable to get the massive grin off his face, even when Mrs Weasley came in later to check on him.

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Florean Fortescue looked up from the book he was reading to see his master standing, staring at the sky in wonder.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked worriedly.

The portly little man turned to Florean and laughed. "No, my dear friend, things couldn't be more right!"

Fortescue carefully closed his book and placed it on the table in front of him, before standing and walking to the window from which his master was scrutinising the night sky.

"A most wonderful thing has happened," the man continued. "It appears Mr Potter is more precocious than I had expected. He has taken his soul mate and joined with her. He is now in perfect balance."

"I… I'm not sure that I understand," Florean admitted.

"What is the purpose of all life if not to procreate and develop? Young Mr Potter has found his perfect mate and made her his. As I said, he is now in perfect balance: good and evil, male and female, all are now part of his consciousness. He has begun to tap into the power of the universe and is well on his way in his preparations to begin his journey."

"It's him then, definitely?" Florean pressed.

"To be honest, if I'd had any doubts I wouldn't have come here. You know how difficult it is for me to enter this place," the man told him with a wink.

"So, what do we do now?" he asked.

"We wait, Florean, we wait. Young Harry still has a long way to travel on his journey, and has an old foe to overcome, before the true enemy makes itself known."

Fortescue nodded and stood awkwardly for a moment. His master had returned to his quiet contemplation of the night sky, and he knew from experience that he would learn nothing more from the man tonight. With a sigh, he returned to his book, taking comfort from the fact that he was a part of great events.

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Unfortunately, Harry didn't get a chance to talk with Ginny again in the morning. When he made his way down to the kitchen for breakfast, he found that Mr Weasley had already departed for the Ministry and Mrs Weasley was in something of a panic.

"Oh, there you are, Harry," she announced as soon as he appeared in the kitchen. "I'm afraid you'll have to make do with a quick breakfast this morning. The Ministry's in uproar and Professor Dumbledore has asked to see you as soon as possible. I've already dished up a small plate for you; eat as quickly as you can and then you'll be needing to get to Hogwarts."

"Err, thanks, Mrs Weasley," Harry acknowledged, taking the plate from her. He was amused to see the amount of food that she considered a 'quick' breakfast. He sat at the table and tucked in, aware that the Weasley matriarch was watching him intently.

"Did you sleep alright?" she enquired.

"Umm, yes. I was out like a light after you visited. I must have been tired," he replied cautiously.

"I'm amazed you managed to sleep through all that racket, Harry," she noted in surprise. "I've never seen a storm like it. Apparently, there's quite a bit of damage to the village."

"No one was hurt, were they?" he asked quickly.

"Not that I'm aware of, no," Molly confirmed, looking at him suspiciously.

"Oh, that's…err, good to hear," he nodded, and quickly resumed eating. This time, he needed no encouragement to finish his meal and get out of the intense gaze of Molly Weasley.

After he'd finished, he thanked the rotund woman profusely and quickly headed to the Floo. He arrived at the headmaster's office to find the man enjoying a light breakfast himself, with a tray bearing a plate of toast and various pots of jam on his desk. The old wizard smiled at him in welcome.

"Good morning, Harry. You will have to forgive me for not being prepared, but I spent most of the night at the Ministry and this is the first chance I have had to take a bite. Can I offer you some tea and toast?"

"I'll take a cup of tea, if I may, thank you," Harry nodded. "I've just eaten myself so I'm not hungry."

"Ah, yes, I very much doubt that even with the confusing events of the night, Molly would let the opportunity to feed you go by," Dumbledore noted, pouring a cup and handing it to Harry.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, sitting himself down on one of the high-backed chairs situated in front of the man's desk and blowing on his hot tea.

"You are welcome, my boy. No, as I was saying, I have been at the Ministry most of the night. Poor Rufus was in something of a panic, spouting some rubbish about Voldemort deploying some 'secret weapon' that would destroy us all. Still, strange events are definitely unfolding before our eyes, of that I have no doubt. Did Molly say anything to you regarding that unprecedented storm that ravaged Devon last night?"

"Not much," Harry said carefully. "She mentioned there had been some damage to Ottery St Catchpole, but that was about it. I must have slept through most of it."

"Indeed, so she mentioned. I gather young Ginevra also managed to catch a good night's sleep, too," Dumbledore noted pointedly.

"Did she? Oh, well, I'm not surprised; Ginny could sleep for England, she really could," he replied hastily.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Then I envy her. I am a very light sleeper, myself, and often wake in the middle of the night. Still, it's heartening to know the two of you managed to rest so well. Nearly everyone I have spoken to who was in the area found sleep impossible. I took a quick trip out to the Burrow myself, you see, and was amazed by the intensity of the storm. It was quiet remarkable."

"Yes," Harry agreed mutely. "Do they know what caused it, exactly?"

The old man looked directly at him with his bright blue eyes twinkling.

"Not really. Of course, the Ministry have many experts who have formulated many theories, although I confess I find much of the speculation rather… dubious, I must say."

"Really?" Harry gulped.

"Indeed. Sometimes these men, much like myself, become far too impressed by their own intelligence and feel that they need to complicate matters unnecessarily. It is a sin, I fear, I have been guilty of too often in the past," the old wizard admitted.

Harry just nodded.

"No, if experience has taught me anything, it's that you should look for the most straightforward explanation for any strange occurrence first."

It was all Harry could do not to squirm in his chair.

"In this case, Harry," Dumbledore continued, "we have a very strange occurrence, indeed. A storm of incredible power and ferocity, that the Ministry's monitoring equipment registered as magical in origin. As Arthur Weasley said to me, you could almost taste the magic in the air. Strange then, that this fantastical storm should just spring up without warning, just a stone's throw from where one of the most powerful young wizards the world has ever seen lay sleeping. Odd that, don't you think, Harry?"

Desperately, Harry tried to think of a way to divert this line of questioning. If Dumbledore figured out what he and Ginny had been up to…

"I find, as I get older, that there are no such things as a coincidences, my boy. Now, bearing that in mind, is there anything you would like to tell me?"

"I…" Harry stuttered helplessly.

"Harry, I gather you seem unwilling to talk about this, but I must stress how serious this matter is," Dumbledore said intently. "The Minister is on the verge of putting the whole Ministry on a war footing, and there are a lot of very scared people at the moment, not least of all Arthur Weasley who is convinced that Voldemort was launching a direct attack on his family. If you know anything about the events of last night, you must tell me."

Harry sighed. There was no getting out of this, and he definitely didn't want to cause Mr Weasley any unnecessary distress.

"It's a bit embarrassing," he admitted quietly.

Dumbledore smiled encouragingly. "Harry, I am an old man who has seen just about everything in his time. I very much doubt you could tell me anything that I have not encountered before."

"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not sure what happened, either," Harry began in a defeated voice. "Ginny and I had snuck out to the orchard, you see…"

"Ah, I wondered if young Ginevra had anything to do with this," Dumbledore interrupted. "Please continue."

"Well, we… that is to say… we, umm," Harry mumbled.

"My dear boy, can I remind you that I have been Headmaster of this school for over forty years now, and I am sure you can imagine the number of incidences I have had to deal with during that time relating to young, hormone-fuelled pupils sneaking off to enjoy some private time with their chosen partners. As I recall, I have had to deal with twelve unplanned pregnancies, several duels conducted by rivals for a young witch's heart, more incidences with badly-brewed Love Potions than I care to remember, and one frightfully embarrassing incident where a young wizard had to be taken to St Mungo's to remove his wand which had become stuck in an unmentionable place. Trust me, nothing you could tell me would shock me."

"Do you promise not to say anything to Mr and Mrs Weasley?" Harry asked nervously.

"I promise to be the soul of discretion," the old wizard promised, looking faintly amused. "Now, what nocturnal act were you and Miss Weasley engaged in?"

"Okay, we were shagging! Happy now?" Harry yelled angrily, embarrassed beyond belief.

"Not particularly, Harry. I am sure I do not have to tell you how disappointed I am that the pair of you should be indulging in such activities while underage. However, if I was to punish you for such actions, I fear I would also have to discipline a very large percentage of the upper school of this establishment. Witches and wizards are a rather promiscuous bunch, I am afraid, and tend to develop at a faster rate than most Muggles. While I am prepared to turn a blind eye to this, I do need to know more details. I have never encountered an instance where intercourse between two young people sets off a magical storm that nearly flattens a village. Perhaps you could elaborate?"

"Err, I'm not sure what you want me to say," Harry admitted, his cheeks flaming.

"Please, spare me the graphic details, but if you could explain if there was anything usual that occurred, that would be helpful."

"Well, I'm not sure what happened," he confirmed. "I mean, there wasn't a cloud in the sky when we first went out there, but by the time we'd finished, it was like a typhoon had hit. I know we were probably throwing out a lot of magic, but I can't imagine it was enough to start all that. Oh, Ginny can see the invisible energy now, too."

"What?" Dumbledore gasped.

"Err, I said Ginny can see that ambient energy now, too," Harry repeated. "At least, she could last night. I didn't get a chance to speak to her this morning."

Dumbledore stood and began to pace behind his desk. His face was crumpled in concentration.

"Is there anything wrong, sir?" Harry asked nervously.

"I am not sure," the old wizard admitted, "but I doubt it. As I explained to you, Harry, only a handful of us ever become aware of this background magic, and even fewer have ever been able to manipulate it. Somehow, your coupling with Miss Weasley appears to have harnessed this energy into one of the most spectacular displays of raw power I have ever seen. I suspect this is a result of two extremely powerful magical beings joining together and, in the throes of passion, triggering some sort of chain reaction that created this storm. I am just surprised that Ginevra was party to this…"

"Ginny's a powerful witch!" Harry protested.

"Indeed she is, one of the most powerful in her year, I might add. But please note I said 'one of'. Although she is powerful, I would never have rated her as being anything extraordinary. Clearly, I was wrong. I must confess, when I learnt that Molly was expecting a seventh child, I became extremely excited as I believed we were going to witness the birth of the seventh son of a seventh son. When little Ginevra popped out, I admit I was rather disappointed. Now I begin to wonder if that disappointment wasn't misplaced. In truth, virtually nothing is known about the abilities of a seventh child who turns out to be female. I know; I checked most extensively. It could be that Miss Weasley has more talents than she has been aware of."

"But what does that mean?" Harry demanded.

"It means, my boy, that Ginevra will be joining our morning training sessions from now on," Dumbledore smiled, before his expression faltered. "Although what I am going to tell Molly, I have no idea."

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"Ah, Miss Weasley, I'm so glad you could join us," Dumbledore said kindly as Harry led her into the Room of Requirement the next morning.

"Thank you, sir," Ginny replied, eyeing the old man nervously.

When Harry had finally managed to speak to her privately the previous evening, she'd been mortified to hear that the Professor had found out about their physical relationship. Harry assured her that Dumbledore had guaranteed him that the secret would go no further, but she was still concerned. He'd explained that the old wizard's curiosity about the extreme magical reaction their coupling had created had far outweighed any moral outrage he'd had regarding their underage sexual activities, but Harry wasn't sure she believed him. Still, if Molly started chasing after him with one of her kitchen knives, Harry would know he was wrong.

"Hopefully, Harry has explained why I've asked you to join us during these little sessions," Dumbledore continued.

"Err, it's because I've started to be able to see this 'ambient energy' that Harry keeps going on about, isn't it?" she said hesitantly.

"Quite so, young lady, quite so. I am not sure if Harry has impressed upon you the significance of this, however. I would estimate that less than five percent of all the witches and wizards in the world ever become aware of these energy fields that surround us, and less than one percent ever become able to harness that energy. I suspect that during your… activities… the other night, you and Harry jointly caused some sort of reaction which caused that monumental storm that upset so many at the Ministry. This suggests to me that you may be able to utilise this energy in much the same way as Harry is learning to."

"But, sir, I'm not powerful like Harry is!" she protested.

Harry snorted. "Yeah, right," he drawled. "Your Reductor Curse nearly blew a hole in the walls here last term."

"The mere fact that you can even perceive this energy is an indication of your magical potential," Dumbledore assured her. "Besides, the mutual attraction between you and Harry here would probably be a major clue, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, beating Harry by a split second.

"Human beings are rather shallow creatures, I am afraid, and we tend to find ourselves attracted to others similar to ourselves," the old wizard explained. "It would not be unusual, for instance, to see two extremely beautiful people attracted to each other, while more homely people, shall we say, are more likely to find love together. Like attracts like, it seems. This also applies to magic, as well. An extremely powerful witch is always going to be more attracted to a powerful wizard, and vice versa. It is basic genetics at work, I believe."

"So, I'm attracted to Ginny because she's a powerful witch?" Harry asked with a frown.

"I expect her dazzling personality and stunning looks probably have something to do with it, too," Dumbledore smiled, "but I am sure it is a factor. I would not be surprised if it might also be responsible for encouraging you both to ignore the legal age of consent."

Both Harry and Ginny blushed at this.

"Still, now is not the time for recriminations," Dumbledore said magnanimously. "We are here today for a purpose, and already the morning is slipping away from us. Miss Weasley, has Harry described the process by which he utilises the magical energy?"

"He has," Ginny confirmed, "but I didn't really understand, I'm afraid."

"Perhaps a practical demonstration is needed. Harry, perhaps you would do the honours?" Dumbledore requested.

"What would you like me to do, sir?" Harry asked.

"Oh, just use your imagination," the old wizards grinned.

For a moment, Harry was stumped. Use his imagination? What could he do that would help Ginny understand? He thought for a moment, but nothing came to mind. He looked at his girlfriend apologetically, but she just gave him a bright, encouraging smile in return. She was never more beautiful than when she smiled, he thought.

Inspired by her radiance, Harry suddenly knew what he wanted to do. Barely lifting his wand, and without moving his lips, Harry created a large bouquet of flowers right in her hands. Ginny yelped in surprise, but then looked at the arrangement in wonder. With a misty look in her eyes, she lifted the flowers to her face so she could smell them. She beamed as she did so.

"Harry, they're so beautiful," she gushed, "but I don't recognise what type of flower they are."

"I'm not surprise, my dear," Dumbledore smiled brightly. "I do believe that Mr Potter has created a whole new species, just for you. Not many young ladies can claim their boyfriends have ever gone to such lengths for them, I suspect."

"That's amazing," Ginny gasped, looking at Harry in wonder.

Encouraged by her delighted reaction, Harry created another bouquet, this time tucked under her other arm. While the first bunch had been a riot of reds, oranges and yellows, this arrangement was predominantly of blues and purples. Ginny laughed with joy at the sight of them.

Seeing his beloved had run out of hands, Harry created a large bush next to her, covered in delicate white flowers. Liking the shrub very much, he began to create more of them around the room, before expanding his repertoire with small, willowy trees and beds of rose-like flowers. The floor under their feet became a lawn of immaculate, green grass and a small pond appeared in one corner of the room. Before he knew it, not an inch of the Room was visible under a mass of flora.

Ginny was laughing out loud by now, and twirled on the spot; a perfect English rose set in an immaculate garden. Harry watched her with his heart thumping and his blood racing through his veins. How could anyone be so perfect?

Seeing him watching her, Ginny stopped. Carefully, she bent down and placed her bouquets on the newly-created grass, before straightening and looking at him with a blazing look. Suddenly, she ran to him and leapt into his arms, her lips seeking his in an intense, passionate kiss. Harry reciprocated willingly, and was soon lost in the wondrous rapture that was his girlfriend.

"Bravo, Harry, Bravo," he dimly heard a voice calling, and suddenly remembered that they weren't alone. Guiltily, Ginny leapt back with a mortified look on her face, but Dumbledore ignored it.

"Spectacular, my dear boy, and once again all your magic was cast without incantation or recognisable wand movement," Dumbledore announced cheerfully. "I must also commend you on creating quite the most breath-taking garden I've ever seen. Clearly, underneath that unpolished exterior an artist lurks."

"I'm not sure about that, sir," Harry replied dubiously.

"Nonsense," the old wizard said dismissively. "Now, Ginevra, did you see how Harry utilised the energy? How rather than trying to make it part of him, he moulded it into whatever form he desired?"

"I… sort of," Ginny replied uncertainly.

"It might be trying to run before you can walk, but perhaps you would like to try?" Dumbledore suggested.

Hesitantly, Ginny took out her wand and held it in front of her. She looked at Harry apprehensively, as if she had no idea where to begin. Seeing Ginny floundering, Harry decided to help. He hurried over and slid one arm around her middle while he laid his other hand over her wand-hand.

"Don't think about trying to cast any specific spell," he advised. "Just let your imagination fly free."

Ginny nodded, and closed her eyes. He felt her lean into him, and he took the opportunity of their closeness to bury his nose in her hair and breathe in her wondrous scent. He heard her exhale with a soft sigh. Such was his contentment that he didn't even feel her hand move.

"Remarkable," he heard Dumbledore murmur softly.

He opened eyes, surprised that he'd closed them in the first place, and saw a solitary rose floating in the air before them. The rose was quite unlike any that he'd ever seen before, in that the petals were a rich, dark green colour with swirls of black mixed in.

"Did I do that?" Ginny gasped.

Harry reached out and plucked the rose from the air. He carefully sniffed the bloom, only to find it had a strange, sweet smell to it, almost like…

"Treacle tart!" he exclaimed laughing. "Ginny, this is no good! Every time I smell this flower, I'll start feeling hungry!"

Ginny burst out laughing, too. "I was thinking that I wanted to make something specifically for you when I released my magic," she giggled. "Maybe I should just have tried to make a treacle tart tree instead."

"Yeah, and a butterbeer pond, too!"

"Perhaps I could trouble one of you two to make a lemon drop bush, as well?" Dumbledore asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

All three burst out laughing again.

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"Tread carefully, Harry; things are likely to prove tricky from this point onwards."

Harry nodded and followed Dumbledore as he moved stealthily across the banking hall. They had managed to enter Gringotts easily enough, through a side window of all things, but the old wizard had previously advised him that he didn't expect any difficulties getting this far. Getting any further would be a different matter, though.

"This is the entrance to the rear area of the bank," Dumbledore whispered as they reached a stout, oak door. "From this point we will need to Disillusion ourselves."

" _Marcesco!_ " Harry incanted quietly, performing the charm the headmaster had taught him earlier that week. Instantly, he faded from sight.

A moment later, Dumbledore also vanished, however they had found that they were able to keep track of each other by the other's magic. To Harry's eyes, the old wizard was now a faint yellowish-white ball of light. Apparently he shone a brilliant greenish-blue, he'd been told.

"Come, the night draws on and we have far to go," Harry heard Dumbledore whisper.

They both slipped through the heavy door, and Harry found himself in a long corridor with more doors set at regular intervals on both sides. The corridor itself stretched on beyond his sight.

Dumbledore started to walk forward at a rapid pace, and Harry quickly followed. He was just starting to wonder about the apparent lack of security when the headmaster halted abruptly, and signalled for him to press himself into one of the alcoves that the doors were set into. A second later, he heard a strange scratching sound. Staring down the dim corridor, he eventually saw movement from somewhere far ahead. Slowly, a group of goblins came into focus, all dressed in mismatched armour and clutching strange red clubs that had vicious looking spikes protruding from them.

As they came closer, Harry realised the scratching sound he'd heard was made by the sharp claws on the goblin's feet. Now he looked at them, he realised these goblins looked somewhat different to the ones he'd previously encountered. They seemed larger and even more cruel looking. It seemed to take an age for the group to shuffle by, and Harry held his breath as they moved pass, missing him by just inches. His heart nearly stopped when one of them stopped and sniffed the air, but eventually they moved on. Harry gasped in relief once they vanished from sight.

"Warrior caste," Dumbledore informed him. "Those clubs they carry are called Bloodthorns. The spikes contain a powerful neurotoxin that will paralyse a human instantly. As goblins are small, fast and very hard to spot in the dark, they are the perfect weapon for taking down a wizard."

They moved off again, with Harry straining his ears for the slightest sound ahead. Fortunately, they encountered no further security patrols and eventually arrived at another oak door, much like the one they'd entered through. Dumbledore pushed it open, and Harry flinched. The door opened out into a huge, open space that he recognised from his previous trips to his vault. A flimsy rope bridge extended from the doorway and down into the darkness, but where it led Harry couldn't say.

"Time for out alternative means of transport, I think," Dumbledore announced.

Nodding, although he doubted the old wizard could see him doing it, Harry reached into his robes and withdrew a small stick. Tapping it once with his wand, the Shrinking Charm was dispelled and he stood clutching his beloved Firebolt in his hand. Dumbledore was also holding a broom, although Harry didn't recognise the type, since it didn't appear to be very modern.

"An Ellerby and Spudmore Swiftstick," Dumbledore responded to his unanswered question. "My all-time favourite, I must confess, even if it was never very popular. Each to their own, I always say."

"As long as it stays in the air," Harry replied, looking at the ancient broomstick dubiously.

"There's life in the old girl yet," Dumbledore assured him. "Now, we need to head in a southerly direction and descend quite rapidly. This is the outer cavern and we will need to pass through a small tunnel to enter the inner cavern. I doubt you ever realised that there were two separate areas when you came down in the cart, did you? Just keep an eye on your broom compass and you'll be fine."

"Okay, let's go," Harry said, eager to be in the air. For some reason, the idea of plummeting down into those inky depths quite excited him.

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, swinging a leg over his broom and pushing off. The old wizard surprised Harry by dropping of the ledge in a near vertical dive. Grinning, Harry decided he wasn't going to let some old duffer on a museum piece show him up, and dived after him.

Quickly, Harry lost his bearings. He had a general sense of which way was up and which was down, but beyond that all he could see was the glowing dot that was the headmaster. Accelerating, he quickly caught up with him and they both pulled up into a level flightpath. As they flew, Harry began to see the outlines of the rock face off to his left, and he thought he caught sight something reflecting below him, probably water, he realised. They were making rapid progress when suddenly a loud noise caused him to start.

"What was that?" Harry called over to Dumbledore.

"Hush!" the old wizard replied.

A second later, the sound came again, this time much closer. Harry now realised what he was hearing was some sort of animal call, although he couldn't identify it. Whatever it was, it sounded large and angry.

"Griffins!" Dumbledore called over to him. "I had feared that the goblins had tightened security after Quirrell managed to break in a few years back, but I never dreamed they would turn loose a pack of Griffins. They must have frightful trouble rounding them up in the morning."

"What do we do?" Harry demanded. He'd heard stories about Griffins and knew they were terrible foes. Fast, viscous and highly resistant to magic, the beasts were often portrayed in legend as being guardians of fabulous treasures. Apparently, the goblins had decided to make those legends reality.

"Fly as fast as you can. Once we pass through the tunnel into the inner cavern we should be safe. The tunnel should be…"

Dumbledore never finished his sentence, as out of nowhere a huge bird-like creature suddenly appeared. It let out an ear-shattering screech and lunged at the headmaster. The old wizard dived, although one of the beast's huge claws raked the hat off his head.

"Quickly!" Dumbledore yelled over his shoulder as he twisted in the air and picked up speed.

Needing no further encouragement, Harry flattened himself on his broom and accelerated. The griffin had for the moment vanished into the velvet blackness, although Harry could hear its angry-sounding cries. Worryingly, that cry was answered several times and he had the feeling there were beasts circling all around them.

It didn't take long for Harry to overtake Dumbledore and he quickly realised that the old broom the headmaster was flying wasn't especially fast. Cursing, he slowed to match his speed and vowed to use the bloody Swiftstick as kindling, assuming he ever got the chance.

A gut-wrenching scream was all the warning he received as a griffin appeared out of nowhere and snapped at him with its cruel-looking beak, missing him by inches. He felt the rough hair of the beast's lion-like body as it hurtled passed him and was again lost in the darkness.

"Harry, don't wait for me! Press on ahead!" Dumbledore shouted. A second later, another griffin swooped out of the darkness and nearly knocked him flying. Dumbledore just managed to gain control of his wildly-bucking broom, although he lost quite a few twigs in the incident. The already slow broom seemed to be labouring even more.

The air was now filled with blood-thirsty screeches and cries. Looking around desperately, Harry realised that Dumbledore didn't stand a chance against the Griffins on his damaged broom. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out his wand.

"Find the tunnel entrance," he yelled to Dumbledore. "Once you do, send out red sparks so I can see you."

"Harry, what are you…" Dumbledore called out, but Harry had already peeled away from him. Once he judged he was sufficient far away from the old wizard, he dispelled the Disillusion Charm, which didn't seem to be doing any good, anyway, and cast the brightest Wand-Lighting Charm that he could. Instantly, the huge cavern was illuminated and Harry could see the walls of the cavern in the distance. Unfortunately, he could also see half a dozen Griffins all making their way straight towards him.

He waited until they were within perhaps thirty yards of him, before he dropped his broom into a steep dive and accelerated for all he was worth. Behind him, he heard several frustrated screeches, but he daren't look back. He maintained the near-vertical dive until he saw the cavern floor fast approaching. Trying not to look at the jagged rocks that looked like they could impale him easily if he fell, he pulled up into level flight going as fast as he'd ever gone. Deciding he'd stayed in a straight line long enough, he executed a sharp turn to his right, and was horrified to see that a pair of griffins were right on his tail. Just how fast were the beasts?

Pulling into a tight corkscrew, Harry let his wand go dark, having judged that he'd given Dumbledore enough time, not to mention illumination, to find the tunnel entrance. He looked round desperately, but couldn't see any sign of either the man or of any red sparks. Gritting his teeth, Harry turned again and began to head in a southerly direction, hoping that he didn't fly straight into the rock face in the dark.

A griffin appeared in front of him with no warning. He had no chance to avoid it, and crashed into one of its wings, fortunately avoiding the snapping beak and slashing claws. He only hit the creature with a glancing blow, but it nearly ripped him off his broom. The Firebolt went into a spin, which, Harry later reflected, probably saved his life as he had a brief sight of the Griffin's claws swiping at him. A sharp pain in his right shoulder told him that the beast had managed to catch him slightly, but he didn't think it was serious. At least, not as serious as the uncontrolled spin that his broom was currently in. Gnashing his teeth, he tried desperately to regain control.

The jagged edges of the rocks were coming towards him at a fearful rate while his broom still plummeted downwards. He'd heard of professional Quidditch players ending up in such situations, and couldn't recall any of them ever getting out of it without serious injury. Desperately, he did the only thing he could think of; he tapped into the ambient magical energy source and tried to use it to slow his decent. Unfortunately, his mounting panic was making it hard to concentrate and he seemed certain to hit the razor-sharp stalagmite he was tumbling towards. In desperation, he screamed and made one last-ditch attempt to save himself, lashing out with his magic wildly. It worked.

There was thunderous explosion and the stalagmite disintegrated. Tumbling through a shower of flying dust and rock, Harry hit the cavern floor and bounced off his broom. Fortunately, he'd managed to slow himself sufficiently that he wasn't seriously hurt, but he was momentarily stunned. Gasping for breath, he lay on the hard, cold stone floor and sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever God was listening. A horrid cry from about jolted him back to reality, and the fact that he had a pack of griffins above who all wanted to rip him limb from limb.

Scrambling to his feet, Harry found his Firebolt lying nearby. Fortunately, it appeared undamaged although it would need a fair bit of TLC when he had the chance. If he had the chance, he amended. Swinging his leg over his battered broom, Harry took to the air but kept at a low altitude, hoping to avoid the griffins' keen gaze, or at least discourage them from dive-bombing him. He was so low that they would run a real risk of simply ploughing straight into the ground if they attempted such a manoeuvre.

The tactic seemed to be working, as he managed to reach the extreme southern end of the cavern unmolested. Of course, at that point he had no choice other than to climb in the hope of finding the elusive tunnel entrance. The rock face was by no means regular, and he realised that he'd been following a large protrusion when the wall he'd been following suddenly vanished and he found himself flying in open space again. With his view now unobstructed, he was delighted to see a stream of red sparks coming from somewhere ahead. Unfortunately, he could also see a pair of circling griffins between him and the signal.

The griffins spotted him at the same time Harry saw them, and instantly began to fly towards him. A moment later, he spotted a third griffin coming at him from the right, and he realised he had to do something pretty spectacular if he was going to avoid all of them. Steeling himself, he flattened himself along the broom and began to pick up speed, heading directly towards the pair of approaching griffins.

It was a moments like this, when death seemed to be calling, that Harry often did his best thinking. Some people perform best under pressure, and he was one of those people. It was with a detached calmness that Harry hurtled towards the large, screaming beasts, all the while keeping tabs on the third creature who was approaching rapidly from the right. Just as it seemed he was going to crash into the razor-sharp beaks of the oncoming Griffins, he pulled sharply to the right towards the one that was approaching from that direction. The griffin seemed a little startle by that, but still tried to snap at him. Unfortunately for the beast, it failed to notice that the nearest of the pair of Griffins had banked sharply to follow its prey, and as a result the two magnificent creatures collided in a spectacular clash of feathers and claws. The remaining griffin turned sharply to avoid them, giving a mournful cry as it did so.

Harry dived slightly and just skimmed the underside of one of the griffins. Ahead, he could now clearly see the tunnel illuminated by the red sparks that Dumbledore was sending up. Unfortunately, while the two birds that collided were busy fighting each other, the third had pulled into a sharp turn and was coming after him with its wings beating furiously. Harry tried to coax every ounce of speed out of his broom as he forgot about manoeuvring and just headed towards the tunnel as fast as he could.

Behind him, he could hear the griffin screaming in fury, although it didn't seem to be gaining on him. Unfortunately, the tunnel was approaching rapidly and it looked to be quite a narrow entrance. Harry knew that to slow his approach to that slim passageway would be suicide with the griffin on his heels, but he could only vaguely see the outline of the tunnel in the dark. He might well avoid the griffin's claws only to smash straight into the rock face.

As if in answer to his prayers, a bright white light suddenly appeared from inside the tunnel. Dumbledore must have realised what was happening and cast the light to aid Harry's approach. Even so, the tunnel appeared only wide enough to permit a single cart through it at a time, so flying through it at break-neck speed would be challenging to say the least. A blood-curdling scream from behind him was sufficient motivation for him not to ease off the speed, however.

Deciding the best way to approach the tunnel would be by flying just above the cart track, Harry started to edge to his right, hoping he didn't lose too much airspeed doing so. Grimly, he realised he was running out of space and needed to make a sharp turn if he was going to join the track before it reached the tunnel, so he pulled right sharply before straightening up. While it had the desired effect of putting him a few feet above the track, it also allowed the griffin to catch up, somewhat. A sudden jolt informed Harry that the griffin was close enough to catch the twigs on the rear of his broom with its beak. Desperately, he tried to coax his broom a little faster…

The tunnel was upon him before he realised and for a terrifying moment he thought he was going to hit the edge of it. Instead, he felt his foot clip the side of the tunnel wall and he nearly started to spin, but he managed to catch it at the last moment. Before he knew it, he'd shot through the tunnel and out into the inner cavern. Behind him, he heard a tremendous screech of pain and frustration from the griffin, which, he realised was far too large to fit through the tunnel entrance and must have crashed.

Gasping with relief, Harry slowed his broom and turned to look for Dumbledore. The old wizard was hovering on his own broom near the entrance to the tunnel, his wand still lit. Harry approached slowly, aware now of the painful ache in his shoulder.

"Marvellous flying, Harry, although that was a foolish risk you took," Dumbledore told him as he came to a stop next to him.

"Yeah, well, once you've out-flown a dragon, a pack of griffins is no challenge," he quipped, although his heart was still racing.

"I am not sure I would agree, but that is a discussion for another time," Dumbledore noted. "That commotion will have been bound to attract attention, so we must throw caution to the wind and proceed quickly. We need to head over to that ledge over yonder, and from there we'll need to proceed on foot."

For possibly the first time in his life, Harry was actually relieved to get off his broom. Once he reached the ledge indicated, he dismounted gratefully, and re-shrunk the Firebolt, which he secured back in his robes. Dumbledore joined him, and together they stared into the darkness.

"What security measures can we expect from this point?" Harry asked quietly.

"I am not sure," the old wizard replied. "The Lestrange vault is number 622, and is located not far from your Godfather's vault. Beyond that, I know very little, but would expect it to be heavily trapped. No doubt other surprises await us before we have a chance to test our curse-breaking skills."

Moving stealthily, they headed into the darkness, keeping the cart track to their left with a yawning drop into nothingness beyond that. They had only done a few dozen yards when they became aware of a rhythmic rumbling. With a sinking feeling, Harry realised he recognised that sound.

"Please tell me that isn't what I think it is," he begged.

"It is your own fault. You mentioned dragons," Dumbledore pointed out cheerfully.

They edged forward, and soon came on a wide, open space with a number of doorways on the far side. Unfortunately for them, a large, metallic-grey dragon was lying on the floor between them and the exits. The creature was huge, easily fifty feet long, with its immense wings folded over its back. It also, mercifully, appeared to be asleep.

"We're in luck," Dumbledore whispered. "We may be able to just creep past the poor creature. After me, Harry, as quietly as you can."

Dumbledore began to softly move towards the sleeping dragon, trying to keep as close to the wall as possible. The dragon was sleeping with its back towards them, for which Harry was grateful. He really didn't want to think about the large, sharp teeth the beast possessed, or its ability to breathe fire. From this end, hopefully the worst the dragon could do was break wind at them.

Their luck held until they were nearly past the great beast. Unfortunately, the goblins must have heard the commotion with the griffins and finally decided something was amiss. A loud, penetrating alarm began to echo throughout the cavern, nearly deafening them.

The dragon stirred.

"Run, Harry!" Dumbledore yelled and leapt forward with surprising agility. Harry made to follow him, when something caught him hard and sent him sprawling backwards. As he tried to regain his feet, he realised the dragon was starting to move, and its huge tail had caught him as it unfurled from its body. An earth-shattering cry announced that the beast was now awake, and it sounded angry. He'd barely climbed to his feet, when the tail whipped at him again, catching him squarely in the stomach and lifting him off his feet.

With a sickening sensation in his stomach, Harry was thrown clear over the ledge and began to tumble wildly into the fathomless depths of the cavern.


	10. Chapter 10 – Progressions of Power

**Chapter 10 – Progressions of Power**

Very short author's note here, as I have to go late night Christmas shopping in a minute. Think of me kindly if I don't make it out alive.

Massive festive thanks to Arnel, especially for pointing out to me that the Burrow isn't infested with fish. Really, don't ask…

* * *

Harry tumbled end over end into the inky blackness. Desperately, he tried to pull his shrunken broom from inside his robes, before he realised that he must have dropped his wand when the dragon's tail had first hit him. Even if he managed to get a hold of his broom as he fell wildly, he had no means of returning it to a flyable state.

His stomach churned as he dropped and his arms clawed helplessly at the air. Terror began to overwhelm his senses as he realised he had no means of escaping death. He was destined to be smashed cruelly upon the jagged rocks below.

Dimly, he remembered falling like this before. He'd only been half-conscious at the time, of course, numbed by the terrible effects of the Dementors as he tumbled from his broom, but still the sickening feeling as he plummeted was strangely familiar to him. This time, however, Dumbledore was in no position to catch him a well-aimed Levitation Spell. No, he was destined to be smashed on the rocks as the sea pounded against the cliff face and…

Wait. The sea?

He was standing on a perilous cliff, with a raging sea below him, but this time he wasn't being hurled into the abyss by an angry Ukrainian Ironbelly, this time he'd purposely stepped off the cliff himself. He fell uncontrollably, until he managed to conquer his fear and clear his mind. Then, miraculously, clarity had come to him! The magic around him began to twist about his body, cushioning and lifting him. He remembered stretching his arms out wide and laughing with joy. He'd risked everything, and his determination had paid off.

So lost was Harry in memories that were not his own, that it took a few moments for him to realise that he was no longer falling. Instead, he hung in the musty air, suspended by clouds of pulsating magic that enfolded him. It felt strangely comforting; like returning to the womb.

Looking around, he realised that he had no idea which way was up or, indeed, how to move in any direction. Taking a deep breath, he tried to let a little of the encompassing magic dispel, with the result that he instantly began to drop rapidly. Hastily, he summoned the magic back to him, but at least now he had a general concept of which direction down was.

Without consciously realising how he was doing it, he began to gather the surrounding magic beneath him, effectively pushing himself upwards. Lifting his arms above him, he became more confident as he began to rise swiftly. He gathered speed as he shot upwards through the velvet darkness, until he unexpectedly saw a dim light above him. With his eyes fixed on the faint glow, he powered up towards it.

He passed the edge of the cliff that he had so recently toppled over, and came face to face with Dumbledore. The old wizard was standing near the edge with a look of despair on his face, and it took him a moment to notice Harry hovering over the void. When he did notice, the old wizard's eyes nearly bulged out of his head and his jaw dropped. It was one of the few times that Harry could ever say that he'd seen his headmaster genuinely shocked. It was all he could do not to burst out laughing at the sight.

"Harry?" Dumbledore gasped.

"Hello, sir," Harry smirked. "It seems I've found another use for all this magical energy that's floating about."

Dumbledore let out a snort and a smile crept onto his face.

"And with marvellous timing, I must say," he chuckled.

Closing his eyes for a moment in concentration, Harry managed to float towards the old man and then gently lowered himself to the ground. He wasn't even sure he could describe how he managed to direct his flight, but it was sort of like pulling on the magic in the direction he wanted to go.

"I feared you were lost, Harry," Dumbledore told him earnestly. "I found your wand on the floor and I did not believe you had a chance to save yourself without it. By the time I reached the edge of the cliff you were out of sight. I was somewhat distracted by a rather angry beast, you see."

He handed the wand back to Harry, who accepted it gratefully. He then looked around and was surprised to see the dragon was still apparently asleep, despite the loud alarm that was continuing to ring.

"I did actually come prepared to face a dragon," Dumbledore explained, seeing the direction of Harry's gaze. "I had a number of extremely powerful Sleeping Potions prepared, but unfortunately they only work if you are able to Levitate them directly into the dragon's mouth. When we first entered this chamber, this slumbering beast was facing the wrong direction for me to administer a draft, and they do not work as a suppository."

Harry snorted with laughter, until a loud rattling sound made him look round. There, on the track running parallel to the cliff edge, a cart was rapidly approaching.

"Goblin guards, I do not doubt," Dumbledore announced. "Quick, Disillusion yourself and take cover behind the dragon."

With his wand already in his hand, it took only a moment for him to cast the spell, before hurriedly hiding behind the slumbering form of the Ironbelly. A second later, Dumbledore joined him and together they cautiously peered over the top of the beast's neck.

The cart came to a halt and half a dozen goblins leapt from it, all clutching Bloodthorn clubs in their hands. Harry noticed that several of them also held strange metal devices, which he couldn't identify. They approached the dragon warily, holding the metal objects out in front of them, but seeing the beast was sleeping soundly they just ignored it and continued on their way. The group disappeared through one of the doorways located in the far wall.

"Behind our dragon friend appears to be the perfect place to hide," Dumbledore noted softly. "No rational-thinking person would ever choose such a hiding place."

"I guess that says a lot about us," Harry hissed back. "Are you sure that Sleeping Potion will last?"

"Relatively sure, although dragons are unpredictable creatures."

Harry was certain that he heard amusement in the old wizard's voice.

They waited a good ten minutes before the goblins returned. Without ceremony, they walked straight past them and climbed back into the cart, which immediately started to speed forward. Harry let out a sigh of relief.

"They must be checking every level," Dumbledore said. "Hopefully this means we shall not be disturbed while we attempt to break into the Lestrange vault."

They hurried through the doorway that the goblins had just emerged from, and Harry found himself in a narrow, stone corridor that had several large, metal doors mounted in it. They were each numbered, and Dumbledore led them to the one marked '622' without hesitation. Harry looked at the solid, seemingly impenetrable door in dismay.

"How will be open this thing?" he asked in frustration.

"Fear not, young Harry. Over the years I have acquired some unusual and unexpected skills. A rather bedraggled Malaysian gentleman, whose name momentarily escapes me, once spent a few weeks instructing me in the art of safe-breaking. I really had nothing better to do at the time, and you never know when such skills come in handy, do you?"

"I suppose not," Harry agreed.

Dumbledore wiggled his fingers and crouched down next to the vault door. "Now, let's see if I still have my old skills…"

Harry watched with interest as the old wizard carefully examined the door, at first just using his sense of touch and then by taking his wand and casting a series of obscure and complicated spells. Time slid by, and Harry began to cast more and more nervous glances through the doorway at the end of the corridor. He could almost hear the goblins' sharp claws scratching at the hard, stone floor.

"Got it!" Dumbledore announced suddenly, and Harry turned just in time to see the vault door swinging silently open.

"Brilliant! Well done, sir," he exclaimed in surprise.

"It is all in the wrist action, you know," Dumbledore beamed. "Come, let us claim our prize and be away."

They entered the vault and Harry was stunned to see the countless riches strewn about the place. Mountains of gold and jewellery were heaped everywhere, seemingly without any form of order, and numerous other objects were also scattered around: silver goblets, suits of armour, old-looking books, and a hundred other items.

"Hmm, it appears nearly every object here is trapped in some way. Tread carefully, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

Letting his eyes unfocus slightly, Harry could see the whole vault pulsating with magical energy. As Dumbledore had noted, every item seemed to be emitting some sort of magical signature, although he couldn't begin to guess what spells had been cast. His eyes roamed around the small room until he noticed a goblet which was radiating a significantly different type of magic than anything else around it. The magic that glowed from the goblet seemed cleaner, more wholesome, somehow.

"Up there," Harry said, pointing to the high shelf that the goblet sat upon.

"Ah, yes, that does indeed look like Helga Hufflepuff's cup," the headmaster agreed. "Unfortunately, it appears to be placed in such a way that it can only be reached by stepping on that all-too conveniently located pile of gold. As I have no doubt the cup is charmed against being Summoned, can I suggest that you utilise your new-found flying abilities to retrieve it?"

Grinning, Harry let himself relax and began to pull the magic around him. He rose, a little wobbly at first, and began to glide towards the cup. Making sure he was well clear of any of the surrounding objects, he reached out and grasped the cup firmly, before drifting back towards the old wizard.

"A beautiful thing, is it not?" the old man smiled as he took it from him. Dumbledore then reached into his robes and withdrew a very similar looking cup. "Here is the imitation we fashioned, which fortunately does appear to be a suitable likeness to the real thing. If you would, Harry."

Taking the fake in his hand, Harry again floated up to the shelf and placed the replica cup in the exact spot the original had been sitting. He grinned broadly as he returned to firm ground.

"Excellent, I would say that was mission accomplished. All that remains is for us to make our exit and return to Hogwarts to destroy this foul object. I'm rather hoping that as our goblin friends have ventured down to this level that they must have restrained the griffins somehow before they arrived. That should make things rather easier," Dumbledore smiled happily.

"I certainly hope so," Harry agreed fervently. "Oh, one thing; can you please buy yourself a decent broom when we get back? That thing you own needs to be put in a museum!"

"Young people today," Dumbledore sniffed indignantly. "They don't recognise a design classic when they see one."

Harry restrained himself from further comment, at least until they'd managed to escape from the bank, anyway.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Come on, Neville said he'd try and grab the last compartment. He and Luna are bound to be on the train already," Hermione noted sourly as she marched purposefully down the carriage.

"Hey, it's not my fault we were late," Ron protested. "At least, not entirely my fault. We had to turn back for Ginny, too, remember."

"At least we were only at the end of the drive when I remembered I'd forgotten to pack my cloak. We were halfway to Exeter when you realised you'd forgotten your Quidditch gloves," Ginny gripped.

"Come on, guys, let's not fight," Harry intervened. "Let's just agree that all you Weasleys have memories like goldfish, and leave it at that."

"I hope you weren't planning on having any female company this evening," Ginny growled.

"Oh, I'm sure Pansy would accommodate me," he grinned back cheekily. Ron mimed being sick.

"Ah, here we are," Hermione announced, stopping in front of the last compartment on the train. She pulled the door open and entered.

"Hi, guys," Neville greeted them as they all trooped in. "We were getting a bit worried about you."

"I wasn't," Luna said dreamily. "Everyone knows that the Burrow is infested with Nargles, who like nothing better than hiding peoples' possessions. It probably took them ages to find all their things."

"That would explain it," Harry smirked, taking a seat. Ginny straightaway sat beside him, while Hermione and Ron took seats next to each other on the other side. Harry immediately slid his arm around his girlfriend who, in turn, snuggled into his side. Nervously, Ron also put his arm around Hermione's shoulder, and beamed happily when she made no attempt to shrug it off.

"So, will you four be hiding your relationships this term? You all seemed very eager to keep things quiet just a while ago," Luna asked.

"I don't see the point," Harry smiled. "I might have had some vague idea about hiding my relationship with Ginny so she didn't become a target for Voldemort's followers, but after the Ministry we're all targets, anyway, aren't we? Besides, I'm kind of keen to show off this wonderful girlfriend I've managed to get."

"Yeah, me too," Ron added. "I still can't believe I'm managed to catch myself the smartest, most beautiful witch in the whole school!"

"Ron," Hermione admonished, but her cheeks did glow a faint red colour at the praise.

"It must be nice to have a girlfriend," Neville pondered sadly.

"Aren't there any witches you have your eye on?" Ginny asked.

"Well, yeah, there is one," he admitted.

"Is she available?" Harry asked interestedly, wondering who Neville was referring to and hoping he didn't have to pummel his friend if it turned out to be Ginny.

"Actually, she just recently broke up with her boyfriend, but I doubt she'd be interested in me," Neville replied glumly.

"You'll never know if you don't ask her, will you?" Luna noted in a strangely no-nonsense voice. "Just talk to her and see if she's interested."

"You think I should?"

"Absolutely," Luna insisted. "You are a reasonably handsome wizard, Neville, now that you've lost some weight. You're a very nice person, too. A lot of witches will probably find you a lot more interesting after the Ministry thing, I expect. Just make sure that this girl isn't after you just because you're famous now."

"Famous? Me?" Neville spluttered. "It was Harry who made the headlines, not me."

"You were mentioned in the papers, too," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, that's one of the reasons me and Hermione were keen to make our relationships public," Ginny added. "I expect you three boys will be getting a lot of female attention this term."

"I hope not. I'm sick of people pretending to like me just because I'm the bloody Boy Who Lived," Harry snorted in disgust.

"Don't worry, luv," Ginny smirked, "I'll keep all those nasty witches away from you."

"Will you do the same for me?" Ron asked Hermione hopefully.

"Oh, I doubt you'll have a problem with that," she replied loftily, before she started to giggle. "I'm only joking, Ron. Of course I'm not going to stand back and meekly let some other witch chase after you. It's taken this long for you to notice me, I'm not going to let some greedy fan girl steal you away now."

Ron nearly split his face open smiling.

"On a more serious note," Harry interjected, "we'll need to keep a close eye on Draco this term. Once he realises that his little plan to allow Death Eaters entry into Hogwarts has failed, he's bound to get desperate. Who knows what he'll try at that point."

"Did you leave any of the cabinet there?" Hermione asked.

"No, we did toy with the idea of just disabling it to give Draco something to waste his time on for a while, but in the end we couldn't figure out a way to wreck it without it looking obvious, so we destroyed the whole bloody thing and Banished the remnants. When Malfoy goes looking for it, it will just look like it disappeared into thin air. Maybe he'll think that the Room of Requirement has some magical means of protecting the school."

"Could be," Ron agreed. "Still, any idea what he'll fall back on next?"

"Not a clue," Harry admitted. "Dumbledore and Snape have both said they'll keep a close eye on him, but I'm not sure how effective that will be. Snape seems almost protective of the little snot, and Dumbledore just wants him to repent and join the good guys. Fat chance of that happening, not now he's actually taken the Dark Mark."

"I suppose you could blame his upbringing for him being like that, but some people just aren't very nice," Luna noted. "Draco will never be kind, or brave, or compassionate. It's just not in him."

"I agree. Which means we all keep an eye on him and his goons, and we don't turn our backs on him. Clear?" Harry said firmly.

"I never do," Ron agreed. "I trust the little ferret as far as I could throw him."

"No doubt he'll be dropping in shortly," Hermione sighed. "Ron and I have to head for the prefects meeting in a moment, so will you all be alright?"

"I think we'll be okay," Harry smiled.

"Just don't antagonise him anymore than you have to… oh! This could be him now," Hermione noted, as she heard the sound of someone fiddling with the compartment door. When it slid open, however, it was not Draco who was standing there. Instead, it was an angry looking Dean Thomas. His eyes swept the compartment, before they settled on Ginny, who was sitting impassively with Harry's arm still around her shoulders.

"Can we have a word, Ginny?" he said in a hostile tone.

Ginny glanced at Harry, who remained expressionless.

"I'll be back in a minute," she said firmly, before rising to her feet and heading for the door. Dean stood aside for her to do through, before pointedly closing the door firmly behind him.

"Are you just going to let her go off with him like that?" Ron demanded indignantly.

"Ginny can look after herself, and she made it clear to me that she'd handle Dean," Harry replied, even if his every instinct was to leap up and confront the boy.

"That's quite right," Hermione chipped in. "I'm sure that Dean is very upset that Ginny turned him down, but that's between the two of them, and you boys just butting in and getting all upset won't help matters, at all."

"Dean's quite nice," Luna said airily, "but he's all wrong for Ginny. She needs someone strong and powerful like herself. Harry's the perfect choice, really."

"Glad you agree," Harry said, with something of a forced smile. He sat and tried to wait patiently as the minutes began to drag on.

"Err, we'd better get off to the prefect's meeting," Hermione said eventually.

"I'm not going until my sister is back," Ron said firmly. "Perhaps we should go and see if she's alright?"

"I don't think…" Hermione began, before she was interrupted by the door slamming open and a very angry looking Ginny Weasley stomping in. She threw herself into the seat next to Harry with murder in her eyes.

"Err, how did it go?" Hermione asked carefully.

"That bloody git!" Ginny raged. "He actually demanded that I dump Harry and take up with him because he'd 'asked me first'! The way he was going on he sounded like I'd agreed to marry him, or something. Then he claimed I'd only thrown him over for Harry because he was famous and a big hero. The stupid bugger seemed to forget that I was at the Ministry, too!"

"What did you do?" Harry asked.

"The idiot wasn't taking no for an answer, and actually grabbed my arm, so I hexed him. Hermione, if you want to take House Points off me, you'd better do it now. What's the going rate for one Bat Bogy Hex these days?" Ginny snapped, her face red with anger.

"Well, as I didn't actually see the incident, I can't really be expected to take any action, can I?" Hermione replied thoughtfully. "If Dean wants to make a formal complaint, however, I, of course, will look into the matter, and be sure to ask him exactly what he was doing that might have prompted such a reaction."

"Thanks, Hermione, you're a mate," Ginny grinned evilly.

"Well, if Dean's going to act like an idiot, he probably deserves what he got. Come on, Ron, we've got a meeting to go to," she replied, pulling the red-haired boy with her.

"Great, I was hoping that Dean would be sensible about this, but I guess not," Harry sighed after the other two had gone.

"Hopefully he'll have got the message now," Ginny said, but she didn't sound too confident.

"Well, if he starts anything in the dorms, then he's going to find himself outnumbered, even if he drags Seamus into it," Neville noted fiercely.

"Thanks, Neville," Harry smiled.

The journey was thankfully more peaceful after that. Ron and Hermione returned from their meeting, bearing the news that Draco wasn't prowling the train looking to cause trouble as usual, but merely sitting with his friends in the front carriage. Harry briefly considered taking the Invisibility Cloak and seeing what he was up to, but felt it would be an unnecessary risk. After all, they knew what his plans were at this point, anyway.

Shortly afterwards, the door opened again this time revealing a breathless third-year girl who looked around the compartment nervously.

"I'm supposed to give these letters to Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom," she stuttered, before looking at Ginny. "Are you Ginevra Weasley? Oh, I've got one for you, too."

After handing scrolls to the three of them, the girl made a rapid exit, leaving Harry unroll the letter and examine the contents.

 _'_ _Harry,_

 _I know we didn't get off to the best of starts, but I would like to invite you to join me in compartment C for a bite of lunch. Hopefully I can begin to convince you that I'm a reformed character._

 _Sincerely, Professor H.E.F. Slughorn'_

"What is it?" Ron demanded.

"An invitation to join Slughorn for lunch," Harry replied grimly. "No doubt he's trying to worm his way into my good books. You two got the same thing?"

Both Neville and Ginny nodded, but his girlfriend looked very confused.

"Why on earth would I get an invite?" she demanded. "You said this bloke likes to cozy up to the rich and famous, so why would he want me there?"

"Perhaps he's heard you're with Harry now," Hermione speculated.

"I doubt it, we've not really made it public up to this point, unless Dumbledore told him," Harry said thoughtfully. "Still, I suppose we'd better go. He'll probably just keep badgering us if we don't."

The three of them made their reluctant way out of the compartment and down the packed train. At one point, Harry saw Cho Chang ahead but she darted into her compartment at the sight of him. Ginny chose that moment to slip her arm through his, but he assumed her timing was purely coincidental. Probably.

They soon reached compartment C, and found that they were by no means the only invitees.

"Harry, m'boy! Delightful to see you again. I'm so glad you were gracious enough to accept my invitation. And you must be Mr Longbottom? Splendid. Ah, and you must be Miss Weasley! I must say, that Bat Bogey hex I saw you perform earlier was quite marvellous. Clearly, you're not a witch to be crossed. Please do come in and sit down."

Harry and his friends found seats in the now crowded compartment and settled themselves. Ginny, who appeared rather nervous, still clutched Harry's arm like her life depended on it. Slughorn immediately noticed their closeness.

"Oh-ho, what's this? Am I to understand that you and this charming young lady are an item?" he chortled in delight.

"Yes, Professor, Ginny's my girlfriend," Harry confirmed in a controlled voice. He didn't fail to notice one of the other boys in the compartment, a Slytherin named Zabini who was in his year, sneer at that news.

"Then you are indeed a lucky young man, Harry, although I would make sure that you always remember her birthday and any important anniversaries. I wouldn't want to upset her if I were you," the fat man chuckled.

"I don't intend to," Harry confirmed coolly.

Slughorn then began to introduce his other guests. Although it appeared that he was just engaging each of them in polite conversation, Harry could see that the man was really skilfully questioning his guests to ascertain their potential worth to him. The large, seventh-year Gryffindor named Cormac McLaggen immediately endeared himself to the Professor by revealing that he knew the current Minister for Magic. Equally, a thin boy named Marcus Belby was quickly passed over when he explained that he barely associated with his famous uncle. Neville was quizzed extensively regarding his grandmother, which, when he realised that was the reason Slughorn had shown interest in him, actually seemed to put him at ease. Clearly, Neville was much happier having the attention directed on his guardian than himself.

Harry found Slughorn's interrogation of Zabini extremely enlightening. The arrogant-looking boy's mother seemed to have an unfortunate habit of marrying wealthy wizards who then mysteriously died shortly afterwards. That the young Slytherin admitted this so calmly ran all sorts of warning bells in Harry's head, and he vowed to watch Zabini very closely in future.

Ginny was next to be questioned, and Slughorn apparently remembered her parents from his previous teaching days. He reacted with interest at the news Mr Weasley was now heading his own department at the Ministry and quizzed Ginny on it extensively. Ginny, in turn, was very proud of her father's achievements, and probably said more than she ought to.

"I'm delighted to hear Arthur has done so well for himself," Slughorn beamed. "You must pass on my regards to him when you next write, Miss Weasley."

A snort of derision made everyone look at Zabini, who was scowling at Ginny.

"Got something to say, Zabini?" Harry challenged.

"I very much doubt Weasley's father got that position through merit," the dark-skinned boy snapped contemptuously. "From what I hear, he only got the job because the new Minister wanted to get on the right side of Potter here."

"My dad is bloody good at his job, Zabini, so just watch it!" Ginny snarled.

The boy just sneered back.

"I'm interested why you should think that Mr Weasley didn't deserve his promotion," Harry asked in a cold voice. "He's been a loyal servant of the Ministry for many years, and always worked hard. Tell me, why don't you believe Arthur deserved the job?"

Zabini just glared at him, and probably would have refused to answer, other than everyone, including Slughorn, was watching him intently.

"The man has no breeding," Zabini eventually replied. "That obsession he has with Muggle rubbish is just wrong. He doesn't deserve that post."

"But the job he's doing requires an extensive knowledge of all things Muggle," Harry pointed out sharply. "Besides, what has breeding to do with anything? It's about ability, not who your family is, that's important."

"Don't give me that rubbish," Zabini replied angrily. "Breeding will always tell, every time. We should be rooting out the inferior members of society and promoting good, pure-blooded witches and wizards to places of authority. Blood traitors have no right to become leaders, and should be punished for their ridiculous views, not rewarded!"

Harry felt Ginny scrambling to retrieve her wand from her robes, but he put a calming hand on her arm. Instead, he turned to Professor Slughorn, who had been observing the exchange with a worried expression on his face.

"What's your opinion on this, Professor?" he asked calmly.

"What? Oh, I'm pretty much neutral on the subject, m'boy," Slughorn spluttered.

"Neutral? But you must have an opinion, one way or the other. Either you believe that positions of authority should be reserved for highborn pure-bloods, or you don't. There is no middle ground," Harry said firmly. He noticed Zabini was now watching Slughorn intently, too.

"Well, I can see both sides of the argument, myself. Talent shouldn't be wasted, and if someone demonstrates ability that should be utilised to the full. On the other hand, I do recognise that such ability is more likely to come from an old, established wizarding family than anywhere else. Your mother, of course, was a prime exception to that rule," the fat Professor explained with a jolly smile. He clearly believed he'd managed to fashion an answer that would satisfy both sides.

Unfortunately for him, this reply completely failed to mollify Harry. Slughorn, to him, was a self-serving bastard just out for what he could get. The way he referred to his mother like she was some fairground attraction, a Muggleborn who was actually half-competent, set Harry's teeth on edge. A quick glance at his friends revealed that they obviously felt the same way.

"You know, Professor, a time is coming where that sort of fence-sitting just isn't going to cut it anymore," Harry began frostily. "I previously warned you that you should be more careful about the sort of people you were trying to mentor, and Zabini's presence here, not to mention your pandering to his racist views, shows that you haven't listened to a bloody word I've said. A war is coming, and neutrality won't be an option."

Abruptly, Harry stood. Ginny and Neville followed his actions immediately.

"I'm going to be watching you very closely this term, sir," Harry told the shocked Professor. "If I even think that you're promoting pure-blood supremacy, or racist views on Muggles and Muggleborns, I will make your life VERY difficult. I'm sure you understand what I mean, sir. Zabini, the same goes for you. You talk about pure-blood superiority, but all you and your kind are interested in is keeping hold of your wealth and power. You just want your exclusive little club of pure-blood families to maintain their influence, and to beat down everyone else. Well, your time is nearly over, and I'm going to make sure of it. Oh, by the way, you'll be interested to know that your precious Dark Lord was actually a half-blood, just like me. Professor Slughorn here will be able to confirm that if you don't believe me. Come on, guys, let's get out of here before I hurt someone."

Without a backwards glance, Harry and his friends stormed out of the compartment, leaving several shocked or angry people behind.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry sat and looked around the Great Hall with a bored expression on his face. For the first time in his life, he was actually rather sorry to be back at school, at least on a full time basis, anyway. He and his friends had achieved so much during the holidays that he almost resented being back. Having to deal with the Slytherins didn't help, either.

The five Gryffindor friends were seated together, picking at the remains of their puddings. They had invited Luna to sit with them (and were quite prepared to deal roughly with anyone who objected) but she'd insisted that she ought to join her Housemates for the welcoming feast. Judging by the way the blond girl was being ignored by her fellow Ravenclaws, Harry doubted Luna would be eating at the other table much this year.

He'd already listened to the Sorting Hat sing encouragingly of uniting the Houses, and then watched it divide the new intake up. There seemed to be rather a lot of new Slytherins this year, he noted grimly. Clearly, a few parents had decided which way the wind was blowing and had encouraged their offspring to try and get into the House of Snakes. Hopefully, he would be able to prove what a short-sighted idea that actually was, given time. He was currently listening to Dumbledore giving a speech regarding the perils of Lord Voldemort's return and, while he couldn't fault the message, he couldn't help but think it was closing the paddock gate after the Hippogriff had bolted. Besides, he was more interested in trying to covertly watch Draco Malfoy and his cronies.

"Hey, Dumbledore didn't mention the new Duelling Club," Ron complained as Dumbledore finished speaking and took his seat.

"We decided that his name shouldn't be attached to it in any way. For some reason, the idea of him having a private army scares the Ministry," Harry explained with a grin. "Besides, it would be best if we let everyone have their first Defence lesson with Snape before we start publicising it. I'm pretty confident we'll get a lot more people interested that way."

"Hermione and I have already created the posters for the club," Ginny revealed. "They look pretty good, too, if I do say so myself."

"Why didn't you tell me you were doing that?" Ron asked his girlfriend indignantly.

"Did you want to help?" Hermione replied with an arched eyebrow.

"Not really, no."

"Well then," she huffed.

"It would just be nice to be informed occasionally," he groused. "No one tells me anything."

"Oh, they do, it's just you so rarely listen," she snapped back.

"You know, for some reason I was expecting them to argue less now that they've started snogging. I guess I was wrong," Harry said to Neville and Ginny.

"Nah, they're just practicing for married life," Ginny smirked.

"Oh, ha, ha," Ron huffed.

"Come on, everyone. It's time to head back to the common room," Hermione decided primly, rising to her feet.

"At least we don't have to escort the munchkins this year," Ron noted, also standing.

"Never mind that," Harry insisted as their little group began to head out of the hall. "Did anyone notice Draco rubbing his arm all the time? I guess the Mark must be a bit uncomfortable still."

"Are you sure you really saw a Dark Mark on his arm?" Hermione asked quietly. "Are you sure it wasn't just a fake?"

"I saw it too, remember," Ginny said indignantly. "It scared Borgin to death, and I'm sure he'd be able to tell the difference between a real one and a fake."

"I suppose so," Hermione reluctantly agreed. "It's just I can't imagine Voldemort recruiting him, that's all. I mean, he's not even seventeen yet, and even I knocked him flat on his back a few years ago."

"A memory that still warms my heart," Ron grinned.

"Wish I'd seen it," Neville lamented.

"I suspect that there are a few reasons Voldemort would want him in the ranks. For one thing, it will keep Lucius Malfoy in line, won't it? I know he's cooling his heels in Azkaban, but let's face it, Death Eaters don't seem to stay cooped-up there for long, do they? Nah, once Lucius is out, Voldemort will be able to use Draco to force him to do whatever he wants. With that skull and snake on his arm, Voldemort will be able to tell exactly where Draco is at any time," Harry informed them.

"Really, the Dark Mark does that? How do you know?" Hermione asked.

"Err, I think Dumbledore told me," Harry lied, having realised that knowledge was another little gift from Tom. "Anyway, it's also another way to ensure Voldemort has control over the Malfoy fortune, as well. That alone has got to be worth binding Draco to him, hasn't it?"

"I suppose you're right," Hermione agreed. "I just find it hard to believe anyone takes Draco that seriously. I mean, he's a joke really, isn't he? Not a very funny one, I'll grant you that…"

"Oh, I don't know. I always have a laugh when I look at his immaculately oiled hair," Ginny giggled. "What a ponce!"

"So, Harry, when are you going to announce trials for the Quidditch team, then?" Ron asked, changing the subject abruptly.

"I'm not sure," Harry frowned. Frankly, Quidditch had been the last thing on his mind.

"You'd better do it soon. We'll be needing a lot of new players this year," his friend advised sagely.

"Yeah, and I might actually stand a chance to get into the team now Angelina and Alicia are gone," Ginny nodded, before wrapping her arm around Harry's and fluttering her eyelashes at him. "So, is there anything I can do to convince you to pick me, Harry? You know I'd do ANYTHING to get on the team."

"It's not going to work, Ginny," Ron said in a bored voice. "I know you're only doing that to wind me up. There's no way you'd want to be picked on anything other than your own merits."

"Bloody hell, Hermione! What have you done to my brother? He's suddenly become thoughtful and considerate," Ginny gasped.

"He's still work in progress," Hermione sniffed.

"Maybe I need some more personal, one-on-one training," Ron smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, turning bright red.

"Nice turn around," Harry laughed, high-fiving his friend.

The group made their way up to the common room and sat chatting for an hour or so. Eventually, Hermione decided they all needed to be rested for the morning and shooed them off to bed. The rest of them whined like they were five-year-olds, but she remained adamant. The boys therefore made their way up to their beds, laughing amongst themselves as they went. As soon as they reached the dormitory, they were met with an angry face.

"Oh, here he is: the famous Boy Who Lived. Stolen anyone else's girlfriend lately, Potter?"

Harry looked up to see a furious-looking Dean Thomas, with Seamus standing resolutely by his side.

"Oh, wind your neck in, Thomas," Ron growled, pushing into the room.

"I don't doubt you're happy your sister ended up with him, you probably arranged it, didn't you? You've never liked me!" Dean spat.

"What are you talking about? I've never had anything against you. I've bunked with you for long enough, haven't I?" Ron retorted.

"Grudgingly," the black boy replied angrily. "You've never been very friendly, though. You've always looked down your nose at me because I'm a Muggleborn. I've seen you, rolling your eyes whenever I've talked about Muggle stuff.

"The only time I've rolled my eyes is when you've talked about that boring Muggle sport, football. You can't seriously be suggesting I hate Muggles?"

"If the cap fits…" Dean sneered.

"Don't be stupid!" Neville intervened. "Ron and all the Weasleys are well known for liking Muggles. It almost sounds like you're comparing him with Malfoy, or something!"

"Yeah, if you've got a problem with me, fine! But don't start taking it out on my mates," Harry said firmly.

"Oh, you've decided to pipe up, have you, you backstabber! I suppose you think you only have to snap your fingers and girls come running. You know, Snape might be a git, but he's got you worked out, hasn't he?" Dean yelled, getting angrier by the minute.

Both Neville and Ron were working themselves up into a temper, and Seamus was clenching his fists ready to defend his mate. Realising things were about to develop into a major punch-up, Harry decided he had to act.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Dean?" he asked, squaring up to the boy. "I couldn't have stolen your girlfriend because Ginny never was your girlfriend. She agreed to go out with you this term, but changed her mind. Frankly, listening to you blubber like a toddler, I'm not surprised she did."

"Why, you…" Dean leapt forward and swung his fist at Harry's face. He then screamed and fell to the floor clutching his hand.

"What did you do to him?" Seamus gasped, dropping to his knees to comfort his friend.

"My hand…I… think it's broken," Dean growled through clenched teeth.

"How?" Ron demanded. "You didn't even make contact with Harry."

As all eyes turned towards him, Harry just smiled benignly.

"Dean, this was your one and only warning. You just have to accept that Ginny changed her mind and is with me now. If you continue to hassle me, or her about it, you're going to end up black and blue. Got that? Now, Seamus, I think you'd better get him to the hospital wing, don't you?"

Looking almost fearful, Seamus helped his friend stand and they quickly left the room. Neville and Ron instantly turned to Harry.

"How the hell did you do that, mate?" Ron demanded.

"I've been learning how to create Magical Shields without my wand," he explained. "They're not very powerful yet, and probably wouldn't stop a good curse, but it certainly was good enough to block Dean's fist."

"Brilliant! How great is that?" Ron exclaimed.

"Yeah, that's really useful, Harry," Neville agreed. "Do you think we can learn to do that?"

"I am hoping to teach you guys more of the stuff Ginny and I are learning with Dumbledore, but it's really tricky stuff," he admitted. "Now we're not training with Mad-Eye anymore, perhaps we'll have a bit more time."

"Blimey, if I'd known we could learn stuff like that I would have dropped all my present subjects," Ron said appreciatively.

"Do you think Hermione would have let you?" Neville grinned.

"Nah, but it's a nice thing to think about," Ron shrugged.

"Come on, guys, let's get to bed," Harry suggested with a smile. "I don't doubt Dean will be kept in the hospital wing for the night, and Seamus won't start anything by himself."

"Dean would have to be a nutter to try anything again after that little incident," Neville said. "Still, if he does do anything while Ron and I are here, he'll bloody regret it!"

"Cheers, Neville, you're a mate," Harry smiled.

As they got ready for bed, Harry could only wonder what ever happened to that plump, timid little boy that he used to know. Neville had embraced his inner lion, and was now a force to be reckoned with. Come to think of it, all of his friends were, he realised, and once they started the Duelling Club the rest of the school would realise it, too.

That thought alone was enough to give Harry sweet dreams.


	11. Chapter 11 – The Key

**Chapter 11 – The Key**

Just managed to slip this in before Christmas, although I do actually cover the holiday in a couple of chapter's time, so my timing is a bit off. Mind you, we could have ended up with chapter 12 being published now, which isn't festive in the least, trust me! As it is, I'm pretty sure everyone will be going 'aw, poor Neville!' at the end of this. Don't worry, I'll make it up to him later.

Mega thanks to Arnel for turning this around in one night, despite the fact I'm sure she has about a million better things to do at this time of year then ferreting out my cock-ups.

If you're reading this before Xmas, I hope you all have a really great time. If you're reading this after, may I be the first person to wish you a merry Christmas 2016. How's that for forward planning.

* * *

Harry's prediction that Dean would be kept in the hospital wing overnight proved to be correct, meaning there were no more disturbances that evening. Seamus gave them some dark looks the following morning, but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

The three boys descended from their dormitory and found Hermione and Ginny already waiting from them.

"Luna sent a message to me via the D.A. coins. She'll meet us by the marble staircase and join us for breakfast," Hermione informed them by way of a greeting.

"She get fed up of all her Housemates already?" Harry asked in a slightly disgusted tone.

"I guess so. I do have to say, I'm quite glad I didn't get sorted into Ravenclaw. They're not a very friendly bunch," Hermione agreed.

"Yeah, they can be quite snooty. I discovered that when I was going out with Michael," Ginny agreed.

Deciding he didn't want to hear anything more about his girlfriend's experiences with the Ravenclaws, Harry led them out of the portrait hole. Pausing only to wish the Fat Lady a good morning, they headed down the corridor and soon found Luna waiting at the staircase as agreed.

"Morning, Luna," Ginny greeted her friend warmly. "Those despicable Housemates of yours didn't give you any trouble, did they?"

"No, although they did seem rather wary of me," the blond girl replied. "Quite a few didn't believe I was at the Ministry with Harry, though. Quite why they think I would make it up, I don't know."

"Perhaps they'll get the message if they see you sitting with us," Harry suggested.

"Err, Luna, where are your shoes?" Neville asked, looking at her bare feet in bemusement.

"I'm not sure," Luna explained with a faint frown. "Possibly a swarm of Gulping Plimpies hopped up from the lake and stole them. I must get some Gurdyroots to repel them."

"Or those miserable gits in your House stole them as some sort of sick joke," Ginny growled.

"That's a possibility, too. But don't worry, I'm sure they'll turn up."

"Yeah, especially after I threaten to hex a few of them," Ginny muttered.

Taking his scowling girlfriend's hand, Harry led them down the marble staircase and towards the Entrance Hall. They had just reached the ground floor when they almost ran straight into Draco Malfoy and his friends, coming up from the dungeon. The boy looked in a foul mood.

"Morning, Draco," Harry said in a cheerful voice. "We weren't graced by your usual visit on the Express this year. What's the matter, Dracy-poo, don't you love us anymore?"

"Shut up, Potter!" Malfoy snarled. "I'm not in the mood to listen to your pathetic babblings."

"Oh, what's the matter? The school year not starting well for you?" Harry taunted. "Didn't Daddy give you your allowance before you arrived here? Oh, wait, he couldn't could he, on account of him rotting in Azkaban where he belongs."

Draco turned an alarming shade of red and his friends began fan out behind him, all sending hate-filled glances in Harry's direction and reaching into their robes, no doubt for their wands. Behind him, Harry sensed his friends doing the same.

"My father won't be in there for long," Draco spat, his body shaking with anger, "and when he does get out, you and your little friends there will rue the day you were born!"

"Yeah, well, as Lucius did such a piss-poor job of catching us back in the Ministry, I'm not too worried," Harry replied with bravado. "Still, I doubt your master will be too happy with him, eh? Failing to capture a single one of us, not retrieving the prophecy, and then getting caught himself! I bet old Voldemort will have your father's guts for garters."

"Don't you dare say his name!" Pansy screeched from where she was standing right next to Draco. She pulled her wand from out of her robes and pointed it directly at Harry. The rest of the Slytherins copied her actions, and a flurry of activity in the corner of his eye told Harry his friends and also drawn their wands. He stood impassively looking at the apoplectic Malfoy.

"It's just a made up name, Pansy," Harry told the girl calmly. "It's a ridiculous affectation created to make him sound more impressive than he actually is. I mean, 'Tom Riddle' isn't exactly a name that inspires awe, is it?"

"Shut up, you lying bastard!" Draco yelled.

By now, the confrontation between the Slytherins and Gryffindors had attracted a lot of attention. A small crowd had gathered, although quite a few of them vanished rather quickly when wands were pulled. Several other spectators, however, looked like they wanted nothing more than for the spells to start flying.

"I'm not lying, Draco," Harry said in a calm, clear voice. "His true name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was born on the 31st December 1926 to a Muggle named Tom Riddle Senior, and a pathetic witch named Merope Gaunt. Because Merope could claim to be a distant descendant of Salazar Slytherin, Tom thought this made him one of the Founders' direct heirs. Perhaps he is, but that doesn't give him an automatic right to rule over everyone, does it? No, in truth Tom is just an angry, bitter Half-blood who thinks the world owes him something. He's committed such horrific acts, and mutilated himself so badly, that he's hardly human now. That's what I don't understand; you lot bang on about purity so much, how come you pick someone who can barely call themselves a human being anymore to lead you? I mean, I suspect it's just because you're all shit-scared of him, but why you keep going on about 'Muggleborn-this' and 'blood-purity that', I have no idea."

The Slytherins were staring at him with a mixture of horror and anger. Clearly, they had no idea whether to believe him or not.

"How dare you," Draco said in a low, angry voice, finally pointing his own wand at Harry. "How bloody dare you! He'll kill you! You and all your friends; he'll kill every last one of you!"

"Oh, like he hasn't tried that before," Harry snorted. "The trouble is, he seems more partial to killing his own servants who've failed him. Do you know anyone who might have failed the Dark Lord in any way, Draco?"

The blond boy paled visibly, and Harry guessed he'd been up to the Room of Requirement the previous evening and had received a nasty surprise. Draco now seemed to have lost all pretence at composure and his arm was trembling as he held his wand. A half-formed curse was already on his lips and you could almost taste the impending violence in the air. Although the Slytherins outnumber him and his friends, Harry was certain that the extra power that he and Ginny could wield more than evened the odds.

"What's going on here?"

Harry turned and saw Professors Snape and McGonagall, along with the Head Girl, this year a Hufflepuff whose name he couldn't quite remember, hurrying towards them. No doubt the Head Girl had seen the confrontation brewing and warned the teachers. He reflected wryly that it must have been one of the few occasions a senior prefect had actually done their job correctly.

"Potter! I might have known you'd be at the heart of any trouble," Snape spat. "You just can't stop yourself from brewing mischief, can you? You'll be serving detention with me for a week."

"Professor Snape, I think you're forgetting that I am the senior staff member here," McGonagall said coldly, "and I would also like to know why you're attempting to punish the only pupil without his wand out?"

Snape turned on the witch instantly. "Potter is a born trouble maker. He's bound to be behind this altercation."

"And you feel you can just assume this without asking any questions, can you? I hardly think that's the correct way to handle this situation," McGonagall told her colleague firmly.

"I… very well. Malfoy, what happened here?" Snape asked with a sneer.

"Oh, no, I think we'll ask someone a little more impartial, shall we. Applebee, what occurred here?" McGonagall asked the Hufflepuff Head Girl.

"Well, Professor, I didn't see the start of it, but when I arrived these two groups of Gryffindors and Slytherins were facing off and insulting each other. Then Potter said You-Know-Who's name, and that dark haired Slytherin girl pulled her wand on him. Then they all followed suit, apart from Potter who was just telling the Slytherins… things… about the Dark Lord. Incredible things," Applebee explained, looking at Harry in disbelief.

"Things? What sort of things?" McGonagall demanded.

"Like his real name and who his parents were. Is it true? Is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named really a Half-blood called Riddle?" the girl gasped.

"You can't keep your mouth shut, can you Potter?" Snape sneered. "Do you know what he'll do to you if he finds out you've been saying such things?"

"Oh, I don't know – perhaps try to kill me? Mind you, he's been trying that since I was a baby so I'm kind of use to it by now. But tell me, sir, don't you think that this information should be shared? Perhaps a few blood supremacists might be dissuaded from joining him if they found out the truth," Harry said reasonably.

"Quite right, Mr Potter," McGonagall interrupted. "Miss Applebee, Mr Potter is quite right in what he says. In fact, Tom Riddle was a pupil in this very school. He was even Head Boy during the 1944 to 1945 term here, and his name is recorded on the roll in the Trophy Room. That's not one of the school's proudest memories, I must admit, but no one could have known the monster Riddle would later turn into back then."

"Lies, all lies!" Parkinson yelled defiantly.

"Are you calling me a liar, Miss Parkinson? Detention for you, I think, and all your friends, too, as it appears you were the first to draw their wands," McGonagall said firmly.

"What about them? They all have their wands drawn, as well," Snape pointed out, pointing at the Gryffindors.

"Merely reacting to being threatened, I have no doubt," McGonagall sniffed. "Still, you are correct that it was an overly-aggressive response, so they will all serve a single night's detention with me. All apart from Mr Potter, of course, who wisely kept his wand in his robes."

Snape glared at his superior for a second, before turning and stalking off.

"All of you, I believe breakfast is waiting," the Deputy Head said firmly. "I think you Slytherins can go first so I can keep an eye on you. Off you go."

The Slytherins shuffled passed, all sending glares of pure loathing at Harry and his friends. Once they were safely in the Great Hall, McGonagall gestured for her Gryffindors to follow them in.

"Blimey, detention on our first day," Ron grumbled, before a smile appeared on his lips. "Still, it was worth it just to see Draco's face. It was priceless."

"I suppose we prefects shouldn't be reacting like that, but if we reported them, Snape would just have protected his favourites, wouldn't he?" Hermione sighed. "There's no justice in the world."

"I don't know, I think Professor McGonagall did pretty well just then," Neville disagreed.

"Yeah, she did, didn't she?" Harry smiled as he took his seat at the table. "Something tells me she's finally lost patience with dear Professor Snape and isn't going to put up with his crap anymore."

"Good for her. Shame she's not Headmistress; she'd soon sort this place out," Ginny said firmly.

"Maybe she will be some day," Harry said quietly, reaching for the pumpkin juice. "Still, I'll tell you all one thing; I'm bloody glad I'm not taking any classes with Snape anymore."

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me, mate," Ron said sourly.

Harry's smile was radiant.

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It was with some trepidation that Harry, Hermione and Ron made their way to the first Potions Class given by Horace Slughorn. After twice berating the man, Harry wasn't sure what exactly to expect.

They entered the familiar dungeon which was surprisingly already full of vapours and odd smells. It appeared that they were the last to arrive, which was unsurprising as they had the furthest to come. Four Slytherins, including a sneering Malfoy, were already seated at one table, and four Ravenclaws at another. Sitting by himself at the third table was Ernie Macmillan, who appeared to be the only Hufflepuff to have taken the subject. The three Gryffindors joined the rather pompous, but otherwise agreeable, young man at the table.

Slughorn entered the room and threw Harry a rather appeasing look, before addressing the class.

"Good morning to you all. Scales out, please, and your potion kits, not to mention your copies of Advanced Potion-Making."

Everyone scrambled to comply. Harry placed his new Potion book on the table, glad that he'd had some prior warning that he was taking this class, otherwise he probably wouldn't have even purchased the book.

"Excellent," the small, fat man beamed. "Now, I've prepared a few potions for you to look at. These are all prime examples of the kind of things you will be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. Now, can anyone tell me what this one is?"

Naturally, Hermione's hand was in the air almost immediately.

"It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," Hermione said brightly.

"Very good indeed," Slughorn praised. He was even more impressed when Hermione succeeded in identifying his next two potions, Polyjuice and Amortentia.

The latter potion gave Harry pause for thought. As Hermione explained how the potion was supposed to smell differently according to what attracts an individual, he took a deep breath. The aromas of treacle tart and polished broom wood weren't unsurprising, but neither was the third scent. Instantly, he had a vision of a head of long, coppery hair, gently rippling in the breeze. Unbidden, a smile came to his lips and he almost felt like running out of the class in search of his girlfriend.

Slughorn seemed genuinely delighted to have a student as capable as Hermione in his class, and was lavish in awarding points to Gryffindor for her diligence, much to Malfoy's obvious disgust. Harry was at least pleased to see that the man had a policy of rewarding achievement, rather than House status as Snape had done. Still, he'd never doubted Slughorn's teaching abilities, just his morality.

"Right, time to get to work, I believe," Slughorn announced, "but I'm going to add a little incentive to you all. In this third cauldron I have a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis, more commonly known as liquid luck. I will be offering a tiny bottle of this to whoever creates the best Draught of Living Death today. Turn to page ten of your books and get started!"

Never before had Harry seen his classmates so eager to begin brewing a potion. Everyone began to scramble round, preparing their ingredients, heating their cauldrons and desperately re-reading their text books. Malfoy, in particular, seemed very keen to make the prize his own.

Harry stared at the instructions in his crisp new book and frowned. As had become increasingly common for him over the last few months, reading an apparently unfamiliar task had triggered some dim and distant memory in his head; a memory that was not originally his own. Tom had been an excellent Potions student, and he retained a distinct memory of brewing this very potion previous. Still, some of the instructions in the book didn't look quite right to him.

Trusting the memories of his nemesis over the rigid textbook interpretation, Harry began to get to work. Most of the instructions were as he remembered them, but he deviated in certain important respects, crushing ingredients rather than cutting them, adding the occasional additional stir to the mix, and altering the heat under the cauldron slightly. He saw Hermione watching him in frustrated fascination, her own potion apparently refusing to cooperate to her satisfaction, but she remained mute.

"And time's up!" Slughorn called. "Stop stirring, please."

The Professor began to walk around the room, peering into cauldrons and occasionally giving them a quick sniff. Eventually he reached the table Harry and his friends were sitting at. He gave Ron's tarlike effort a rueful smile, virtually ignored Ernie's disastrous effort, but rewarded Hermione with an approving nod. When he looked at Harry's effort, he grinned in delight.

"A clear winner!" Slughorn cried. "Excellent, Harry most excellent. A few drops of this would probably kill us all! You've obviously inherited your mother's talent in Potions. Congratulations, one bottle of Felix Felicis is yours, use it well, my boy."

Harry accepted the small bottle thoughtfully, noting the furious looks on the faces of the Slytherins. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him.

"Sir, if this potion is so useful, why don't people take it all the time?" he asked his teacher.

"Ah, well, if used in excess this little potion can be quite dangerous, you see. It can engender recklessness and dangerous overconfidence in the user, not to mention it can be highly toxic in large quantities," Slughorn explained. "No, my boy, use this sparingly and pick the right occasion. I promise you that if you do you will be richly rewarded."

Harry pretended to consider the matter before the moment, before handing the vial back to his surprised teacher.

"Actually, sir, when you put it like that, I think I can do without this potion," Harry declared loudly. "If I'm going to succeed in something, I'll achieve it on my own merits. I wouldn't want certain people to accuse me of relying on Felix Felicis to achieve anything, would I?"

Rather than being upset, Slughorn seemed delighted by this statement.

"Very wise, Harry, very wise, indeed! Clearly, you are a young wizard who is very confident in your own abilities, and rightly so, I say. Take an additional twenty points to Gryffindor instead, and I'll be looking forward to seeing more of your brewing exploits in coming lessons."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Draco staring at him with a mixture of surprise and loathing. Once again, the crown prince of Slytherin had been humbled by a mere Half-blood.

As they filed out of the classroom after the lesson had ended, Ron immediately turned on him.

"Have you gone barking mad?" he demanded. "Why did you just hand back that potion? Think what you could have done with that!"

"I think Harry did the right thing," Hermione insisted. "You shouldn't become reliant on temporary fixes like Felix Felicis. Besides, haven't you seen what Harry is capable of these days? I rather doubt he needs a silly little potion like that, anyway."

"Exactly, besides, look how confused the Slytherins were," Harry pointed out. "They would have given their back teeth for that little bottle, and by just handing it back I've thrown them into confusion. They'll be second-guessing themselves now."

"I suppose," Ron said grudgingly.

"Besides, if I really do feel I need a dose of Felix, I can always have a go at mixing up a batch myself, can't I? I seem to remember a handy little disused girl's bathroom we could always use."

"Hey, yeah!" Ron said, brightening considerably.

"Not that I foresee the need for it any time soon," Harry added.

"It always pays to keep your options open," Hermione noted. "Now, I've got Ancient Runes next, what about you two?"

"Divination," Ron replied glumly.

"And I've got a private lesson with Dumbledore," Harry said cheerfully.

"There's no need to look so bloody happy about it," Ron complained.

"Why not?" Harry grinned. "Especially as your sister will be joining me."

"Great," Ron noted sourly, before stomping off in the direction of the Divination classroom.

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Harry stood back and watched the girl he loved in amazement. Currently, she was using her wand to control a stream of liquid fire which was snaking around the Room of Requirement gracefully. It almost reminded him of a kite on a string, such was the way Ginny was skilfully guiding it about.

"Most impressive, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore congratulated her. "That really is a most remarkable sight."

"I would never have been able to do this if Harry hadn't shown me how," she responded. "He was right, it's much easier if you're actually transforming the air itself."

"Indeed, although I would definitely refrain from referring to what you are doing as easy," Dumbledore chuckled, before turning to Harry. "Well, my boy, are you just going to let this marvellous young lady do all the work?"

"I'm quite happy to just stand and watch her, sir. In fact, I could do that all day," Harry grinned, but nevertheless, he pulled out his wand.

With a slight frown of concentration, he conjured a second dancing stream of fire. While Ginny's fire was a bright yellowish-orange, his was more of a white-blue colour. With a smile on his lips, he sent the flame chasing after Ginny's. She chortled in delight, and soon a game of aerial tag developed. Dumbledore stood and watched them with an almost radiant expression on his face.

"Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected a pair of teenage pupils to show such power and control," he murmured in awe. "Tell me, are either of you drawing on your own magical cores, or just using the ambient energy around you?"

"I don't think any of this is coming from within me," Harry admitted.

"No, me neither," Ginny added.

"Amazing," the old man breathed. "Do you realise what potential the pair of you have? A whole world, a universe even, of boundless energy at your fingertips, with only your will and imaginations to limit you. Truly, I find it staggering."

"What do you think we should be learning next?" Harry asked as his blue jet of flame did a barrel roll around Ginny's.

"Hmm, you both seem to have mastered tapping into the energy source, so theoretically you could achieve virtually anything," Dumbledore mused. "Of course, things are never so simple and you will need to practice your control and implementation. I also feel we need to conduct some exercises to free your imaginations, as it were. All this power would be wasted if you cannot shape your wills into doing something creative with it, after all."

Harry let his steam of fire die, and Ginny immediately did the same.

"Professor, what we're doing… has anyone ever been able to do this before?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Not with the ease and facility that you do, no. I would stress, however, that while you and Ginevra are both amazingly powerful, that alone is not always enough. Should, for instance, you have the misfortune to face Lord Voldemort again anytime soon, I don't doubt that you would be defeated. Power is wasted if the person wielding it lacks the experience and know-how to utilise it. That is why we must continue your training, and endeavour to open new worlds for you to explore. Truthfully, I must confess I find the prospect of what we might discover tremendously exciting."

"Me, too, sir," Ginny grinned.

"I think that is enough for today," Dumbledore noted. "Before your next lesson I would like you both to consider a task I wish to set you. Currently, you both seem to have some talent at manipulating the air around us and transforming it into other things. For our next session, I want you to create an object, it can be anything you like, but totally from scratch, with no Transfiguration involved. Are you two up for the task?"

"Umm, yeah," Harry said dubiously. "I mean, I'll really have to give some thought as to how I go about it, though. That's really quite different as to how I've been doing things up to this point."

"Which is why I'm asking you to do it," Dumbledore smiled. "Right, off you pop."

With a cheerful nod, Harry and Ginny exited the Room of Requirement.

"Well, that was a million times better than being in a History of Magic class," Ginny enthused. "I just wish Mum had let me drop more subjects so I could concentrate on this."

"At least I can pass on anything I learn without you," Harry assured her, before glancing at his watch. "Bit early for lunch yet. Anything particular you fancy doing for half-an-hour?"

"Mmm, what are you suggesting?" she asked saucily.

"I think you know exactly what I'm suggesting," he grinned, slipping his arm around her.

"Sounds like fun," she agreed. "Although, on a related subject, there is something I want to talk to you about. Come on, let's find a nice, deserted classroom somewhere."

Intrigued, Harry let himself be led down the corridor. After some searching, they eventually found a classroom that looked like it hadn't been used in the last ten years. A few hastily cast charms on the door ensured they had complete privacy.

The second Harry lowered his wand, he was pulled into a searing kiss by his girlfriend. He responded enthusiastically, and began to let his hands wander over her young, nubile body.

"Yum," he yummed as their lips broke contact. "We definitely haven't been doing that enough lately."

"And that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about," Ginny replied, rubbing her hands up and down his chest as she spoke. "Harry, I… I… oh, bugger it! Harry, I want to get laid again!"

"Me, too, but do we dare? You remember what happened last time. I mean, I think Dumbledore will figure out what we're up to if a massive magical storm suddenly kicks off in the middle of the castle."

"Yeah, but I've been thinking about that. The Professor said that we somehow triggered that storm by reacting with the ambient magic in the air, right? As I recall, we were both radiating a lot of magic while we were, you know, doing it, so all we need to do is find a way to shield ourselves and not leak energy everywhere."

"Sounds logical," he agreed, "but how do we do that?"

"Well, I have to confess that I've been playing around with creating a kind of shield to protect us. I managed to create this sort of magical bubble which surrounded me, and I tried casting some spells at the surface of it. After a few attempts, I managed to get it so that none of the spells penetrated the bubble at all. Between the two of us, I bet we can reinforce it so we get no leakage, at all."

"Wow, you really do want to get laid again, don't you? Not that I'm complaining in any way, shape or form. Nah, your bubble sounds like a brilliant idea! Why don't you show me how it's done, and we can have a practice now?"

"Great, and, who knows, if we can get this working right now, perhaps we can sneak off and visit the Room of Requirement again this evening," she grinned seductively.

Harry grabbed his wand. He was definitely going to make this protective bubble work, if it was the last thing he did!

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It was a little after dinner when Harry and Ginny crept back to the Room of Requirement. Fortunately, no one had noticed them slip out of the Gryffindor common room and the Marauders Map had allowed them to get this far without running into anyone.

"Hurry up, Harry," Ginny urged him as they paused in front of the tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy. "Create a nice room for us to use!"

"Alright, calm down; I'm as keen as you are, you know," he replied, hurriedly walking up and down three times. In truth, 'sprint' would have been a closer description to the speed he was going than 'walk'.

He grinned in triumph as a now familiar door appeared in the wall. Grabbing Ginny's hand, he flung the door open and nearly dragged her inside. Once he saw the space that the Room of Requirement had created for them, however, he stopped dead.

"Why, Harry Potter! You old letch!" Ginny giggled.

Quite where in the depths of his imagination he'd dreamt up this place was a mystery. It wasn't a huge space, by any means, but the shocking pink walls made it look smaller than it actually was. The shag-pile carpet was an interesting touch, as was the mirrored ceiling. The real center piece, however, was the huge bed, covered in black, silk sheets and red, heart-shaped cushions scattered over it. He would dearly have liked to blame the whole monstrosity on Tom's imagination, but there was no way he could ever pin this on him.

"Err, perhaps I'd better try and create something else," Harry noted dubiously.

"Oh, no; this is just perfect," Ginny smirked. "At least I know how your mind works, you old lothario, you! Got any more interesting little fetishes you want to tell me about?"

"This is all the room's own doing," Harry insisted. "I was just thinking I wanted a suitable place to make love to my girlfriend."

"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that," she grinned.

"Never mind that, we haven't got long before curfew. We can't afford to waste too much time," he insisted, secretly deciding he'd do some serious self-analysis later. "Do you want to cast your protective bubble, or shall I?"

"Actually, to be on the safe side, I thought we'd better both do it. Less chance of any magic escaping that way. You will be careful this time, won't you?"

Harry scowled at her. During their practice session that morning he'd accidentally created a bubble that was not only magic-proof, but also completely airtight. Fortunately, he'd managed to dispel his creation long before they ran out of oxygen.

"Yeah, I can manage if you can," he snapped, pulling out his wand. Ginny looked far too amused by the proceedings as she too removed her wand from her robes.

Concentrating, he began to visualise Ginny's protective bubble, being sure to cover every minute detail of its construction. When he was sure he had it down perfectly, he began to gather the ambient magical energy from around him, before releasing it with a swish of his wand. Looking up, he saw the area surrounding them was encased in a golden glow, which he associated with success. A second later, the glow intensified as Ginny released her magic. If nothing else, it blotted out the dreadful pink walls.

"What do you think?" he asked her. "Do you think this will stop all that energy leaking out and triggering a hurricane?"

"I think so," Ginny confirmed, peering at the bubble intently. "Hopefully, this time we'll radiant less energy, anyway. I mean, we didn't even realise that's what we were doing before. Now we know we do that, we can prevent it, I think."

Harry looked at her with a cocked eyebrow.

"Well, if everything is prepared…" he drawled.

"Then let's not waste any more time!" she said enthusiastically, launching herself at him. Fortunately, he'd been standing right beside the bed so he landed on it, with Ginny on top of him. As they hurriedly began to pull off each other's clothing, he realised that it was actually a waterbed. He felt a brief stab of mortification that his subconscious was apparently so cheesy, before he lost himself to more pleasurable thoughts…

Half-an-hour later, an exhausted Harry Potter collapsed back onto the bed. Ginny flopped down beside him, panting heavily.

"Bloody… hell…" he gasped. "That was… was…."

"Amazing," Ginny managed to pant.

"There should be a law against this," he murmured wanly. "Nothing should be this good."

"I thought the first time was brilliant, but this…" she trailed off, and lay still for a moment.

"We should really check outside to make sure we haven't leaked any magic," Harry said.

"Yeah," she confirmed.

Neither of them moved.

"Oh, bugger it, what's the odd tornado between friends?" he muttered. Ginny giggled softly.

"I think we'll be alright," she announced. "Couldn't you feel all the magic enveloping us? The first time, we were just pumping energy out in all directions, but this time it seemed to be all around us. Honestly, I think we could have used it as a mattress, it was so dense."

"What's wrong with the mattress I created?" he asked in an offended tone, patting the bed affectionately.

"Other than I started to feel sea-sick at one point?" she smirked.

"Everyone's a critic," he complained. "Still, isn't it weird that we kick out all this magic when we're making love? I know Dumbledore said it was because we were magically attracted to each other, but there must be more to it than that. I mean, your mum and dad never threatened to magically level the Burrow when they were making you lot, did they?"

"I don't believe so, and thank you for putting the image of my parents having sex into my brain," Ginny groused, "but, actually, I admit I've been giving this a lot of thought. I believe we were actually performing Sex Magic, you know."

"Really? I thought that was weird, dark stuff," Harry said in surprise.

"A common misapprehension, apparently. I must admit I thought the same, until I questioned Hermione about the subject. You know, for someone who comes over as a bit straight-laced, she doesn't half know a lot about sex rituals."

"It's always the ones you least expect," Harry said sagely.

"Probably," she laughed, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look at him. "Did you know, for instance, that you don't actually need another person to perform Sex Magic? You can do it all by yourself."

"Ah, so that's what I hear Seamus practicing every night after lights-out," Harry smirked.

"Ick! That's another image I don't want in my head!" she laughed. "But, seriously, there's a lot of misunderstanding and confusion about it. I grew up believing there's something sinister about Sex Magic, but there's nothing further from the truth."

"Well, it's not like it's on Hogwarts' current curriculum, is it?" Harry point out. "I mean, can you imagine McGonagall teaching it? 'Okay, class, everyone strip off and form a circle. Now, who wants to be partnered with me?' Yeah, that would go down well!"

"And yet another image I didn't want," she giggled. "But the circle thing is a good example of the misperception surrounding this type of magic. Everyone seems to assume that it's ritualistic and performed in a very precise manner. That's simply not true. Also, you just can't do it with a complete stranger and expect it to work. Sex Magic is only effective when it's performed with someone you love. It's all about creating and channelling energy, and, as Dumbledore is so fond of saying, love is the most powerful force in the universe. When performed in the correct conditions, Sex Magic will allow strong magical forces to be generated and released. The only ritualistic elements to it are connected to the utilisation of this energy. Sometimes, a specific ritual or series of charms are required to harness the power."

"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted. "Creating and channelling energy? But that's what we've been learning to do."

"Exactly. The more I learnt about Sex Magic, the more I saw how similar it was to what we do. It's all about harnessing primal forces, I guess. Sex is ultimately about the creation of life, just as all this swirling energy we see is the stuff that the universe is created from. If you think about it, it's no surprise that someone who can use that ambient energy would create more of it during sex."

"Blimey, this is all heady stuff," he noted in awe.

"Yeah, Hermione referred to it as the 'Keys of Creation' and one of the cornerstones of this reality. Dumbledore said that all matter was ultimately made from this energy, and we've just been making more of it."

"Amazing," he whispered, before a more prosaic thought occurred to him. "Didn't Hermione want to know why you were asking about all this?"

"Of course, but she knows we've been intimate. I just told her that we had an 'interesting' reaction when we first did it, and that was enough to launch her into her lecture on Sex Magic and its practical applications."

"Hermione knows we've shagged?" Harry gasped.

"Yeah, of course. Come on, Harry, how long do you think it would have taken her to figure it out? Nothing gets past that girl."

"I know, but it still feels… weird. I mean, I bet you wouldn't want to know if Ron did it with Hermione, would you?" Harry pointed out.

"Too late, I already know," Ginny sighed.

"What? Really?"

"Yeah, didn't Ron tell you? I'm surprised he wasn't boasting. Still, he's probably got a rough idea what we get up to and is afraid if he blabs about him and Hermione, you'll start explained exactly what you've been doing with me. That would definitely make him think twice!"

"Yeah," he agreed mutely, before glancing at his watch. "Bugger, we've only got ten minutes before curfew. We need to get back."

"Damn," Ginny cursed, and leapt of the bed in search of her clothing. Harry followed her example and they hurriedly dressed. As soon as they were decent, they dispelled their magical bubble and left the Room of Requirement. Harry hurried over to the nearest window and looked out.

"It's dark out, already," he noted, "but the sky looks clear. We haven't touched off any storms, Ginny."

"Brilliant! You know what this means, Mr Potter?"

"What?"

"That you, sir, are going to be getting lucky a lot this term," she smirked.

Harry hoped that the grin that came to his face wasn't as foolish as he imagined it was.

"Come on, lover boy, we'd better get back," Ginny laughed and they hurried down the corridor in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.

If the two young lovers had waited a few moments, they might have witnessed an elderly wizard in shockingly bright purple robes ambling contently down the corridor. He paused to gaze out the window, admiring the clear night sky, before chuckling merrily. He then followed after the young Gryffindors, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

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Harry and Ginny were both rather late getting down to breakfast the next morning. They arrived in the Great Hall to find Ron already tucking into seconds, Hermione perusing a thin book as she picked at her food with one hand, and a rather depressed-looking Neville sitting staring morosely at his untouched food.

"Hey, guys," Harry greeted them as he and his girlfriend took their seats.

"You took your time, didn't you?" Ron said looking at them suspiciously.

"Why, do you want to know what we were up to?" Ginny asked innocently.

"No, not ever," Ron shuddered and quickly turned his attention back to his food.

"Morning everyone. Mind if I join you?"

They turned to see Luna standing there with a radiant smile on her face.

"Of course not. Sit yourself down," Ginny told her friend, scooting over to make room.

"Thanks. My fellow Ravenclaws were being rather tedious this morning. What's the matter with you, Neville?" Luna asked directly.

Neville jumped like he'd just been shot. He looked up at the others who were by now all staring at him inquisitively.

"Oh, err, nothing really," he mumbled.

"Neville, we know you well enough by now to tell when you're lying," Ginny told him firmly.

"Yes, tell us what the matter is. Maybe we can help," Hermione added.

"Nah, you can't," Neville told them in a miserable voice. "I just made a massive fool of myself, that's all."

"What happened?" Hermione asked, beating the others by a split second.

"It's a bit embarrassing really," he told them in a pained voice.

"Nev, we're all your friends, and we only want to help. We can see you're upset and I promise none of us would do anything to make you feel worse," Harry said encouragingly.

"Yeah, mate," Ron agreed. "Blimey, I've done enough embarrassing things in my time that I've got no room to take the mickey out of anyone else."

"Well…" Neville began reluctantly, "you know how Hannah Abbot recently split up with Ernie Macmillan?"

"Umm, yeah," Harry said, a little surprised. To be honest, he'd thought Ginny had made that up just so they could pressure Ron to ask Hermione out.

"The thing is, I've always rather liked Hannah. She's really pretty and an extremely nice person. I've partnered her during Herbology a few times and we've always got on really well."

"Yes, Hannah is very nice," Hermione agreed.

"Well, I sort of, umm, asked her out last night," Neville blurted.

"Oh, did she say no?" Ginny asked sympathetically.

Neville nodded. "She wasn't nasty about it or anything, but the problem was that she and Ernie have got back together again, and he was standing nearby when I asked her."

"Ah. Awkward," Hermione noted with a wince.

"Awkward doesn't begin to cover it," Neville moaned. "I thought he was going to hit me! He kept yelling at me that I was trying to nick his girlfriend and that I was a total creep. I would never have asked Hannah if I knew they'd patched things up, I swear."

"Of course you wouldn't. You're not that type of bloke," Ginny confirmed.

"What happened next?" Ron asked his distraught friend.

"All of Ernie's mates started to pile in," Neville explained. "They were all yelling at me and shoving me about. I mean, I could hardly say anything, could I? I was in the wrong."

"You made a simple mistake. You had no way of knowing Hannah wasn't free anymore," Hermione sniffed, obviously annoyed on behalf of him.

"Yeah, that Macmillan is a stuck-up idiot anyway. I dunno what Hannah even sees in him," Ron added.

"It was a stupid idea, anyway," Neville lamented. "After all, who would want to go out with me?"

"What, one of the daring young wizards who fought at the Ministry? Who bravely stood up to Voldemort's most powerful followers?" Ginny asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Yes, don't under value yourself," Hermione agreed. "You're a kind, considerate wizard from an excellent family, extremely skilled at Herbology, and generally a nice person. Any witch would be proud to go out with you."

"Although Hermione's taken, obviously," Ron added quickly.

"Seriously, mate, haven't you seen all the young witches giving you the eye lately? Ever since that piece came out in the Daily Prophet about the Ministry battle, you've had admirers in every house," Harry grinned. "Even Slytherin."

"Eh, what?" Neville exclaimed.

"It's true, Neville," Luna agreed. "You're actually quite cute, too."

Neville turned bright red.

"Yeah, if Hannah would rather have that ponce Macmillan that's her lookout," Ginny said firmly. "There are plenty of other girls out there who are interested, and we're going to find one for you!"

"Err…" Neville mumbled, looking rather shocked.

"Yes, come on, Neville. We'll discuss what sort of attributes you're looking for in a girl while we head to our next class," Hermione said, pulling him to his feet.

"Our next class is on the way, so we can help," Luna exclaimed happily and grabbed Neville's arm, practically dragging him along.

"Absolutely," Ginny agreed, taking his other arm. Hermione by this time had pulled a piece of parchment and was scribbling notes as they made their way out of the Great Hall.

"Now, do you have a preference for blondes, brunets or redheads?" she asked.

"Blimey, I almost feel sorry for the bloke," Ron noted as he and Harry followed on behind.

"Yeah, I reckon he'll have a girlfriend by the end of the week, whether he wants one or not," Harry chuckled.

As they left the room, he happened to glance over towards the Hufflepuff table and saw Hannah Abbott staring at the departing Neville with a wistful expression on her face. Noticing him looking at her, she turned her head and gave Harry a questioning glance. Not feeling terribly charitable to the girl, he just gave her a hard stare and she quickly looked away.

Harry sighed as he left the hall. He was probably being harsh on Hannah, but he couldn't help himself. He might be on the verge of becoming one of the most powerful wizards to walk the earth, but he was still a teenager who was loyal to his friends.

Besides, Ginny was right: Macmillan was a stuck-up ponce.


	12. Chapter 12 – First Blood

**Chapter 12 – First Blood**

It's taken me until New Year's Eve to get to this point, but the body count begins here. The story starts to take a darker turn from here on in, so be warned. Hmm, eleven chapters and no corpses – is this a Brennus record?

Many thanks to Arnel, as always, for continuing to disguise my grammatical foolishness.

* * *

Harry grinned at the small, nervous face that peeked around the door.

"Come on in. Don't be shy," he urged.

The face proved to belong to a small, second-year Hufflepuff who shuffled into the room. He was followed by three of his Housemates, who all eyed Harry and his friends with something approaching awe.

"It's alright, you're first to arrive," Hermione added, waving them in. "Just take a seat anywhere while we wait for the rest."

Relaxing somewhat, the four youngsters complied with her instructions. As Harry watched them, he struggled to believe that he'd been their size just a few short years before. It seemed like a lifetime ago to him now.

He and his friends were lounging casually in the large, disused classroom that Professor McGonagall had informed them had once been used for the express purpose of hosting meetings. They'd decided that this was a better choice than the Room of Requirement, as they simply didn't want too many people aware of that immensely useful space, at least until they had signed a confidentiality agreement. Besides, all the other student-run clubs in the school used similar facilities, and Harry was determined that his new Duelling Club would be low-key and friendly, if only to prevent the Ministry from starting to get paranoid that they might be forming a secret army.

Gradually, more pupils started to drift in. Most were from the second, third or fourth years, but a sizable group of ex-D.A. also trooped in, including a grumpy-looking Ernie Macmillan who scowled at Neville as he entered. Eventually, the room filled and Harry looked on happily at the turnout. He stood and addressed the assembled group.

"Hello, everyone, and welcome to this, the first meeting of the new Hogwarts Duelling Club," he began. "The aim of this club is to provide some practice in practical duelling, help improve your Defence Against the Dark Arts knowledge, and generally have a bit of fun."

As he looked around at the faces of the assembled pupils, he noticed a lot of relieved expressions on the younger pupils who now realised that they weren't going to be out of their depth, and a few puzzled ones on the ex-D.A. crowd.

"Now, I'm sure you've all heard about the exploits of Dumbledore's Army last term, but what we're doing this year will be rather different. Fortunately, this year we actually have a knowledgeable Defence Professor, so we don't have quite the measure of urgency that we had previously."

A few sour looks greeted this statement, as they all would have had the opportunity to sample a Snape run Defence class by now. Still, just because the man was a total shit didn't mean he didn't know his stuff.

"Instead, the emphasis this year will be on duelling in practice settings. As well as staging more traditional duels, we'll also be organising team events, mostly set in realistic environments which will offer teams cover and concealment. We hope these events will be a lot more realistic than just standing on a platform hurling spells at a single opponent."

This idea seemed to excite old and new hands alike. He planned to use the Room of Requirement to its full capabilities, and create various different settings to stage training in. The club members would soon find themselves duelling in forests, villages, caves and all manners of different places.

"We will, of course, be introducing new spells and charms to the group, and practicing basic skills, but we'll also try and make it as fun and action-packed as possible. Later in the school year, we'll probably host a Duelling Tournament, with prizes for the best in each year and an overall winner. It should be a lot of fun."

"Will you be taking part? None of us will stand a chance if you are," a young witch called out.

"No, me and my friends will be hosting the event and acting as umpires. That will keep us plenty busy," Harry smiled. "Now, anyone wishing to join the club will need to sign a Magical Contract, but I assure you all that it is far from onerous. We just don't want any skills you learn here to be used for Dark purposes, so the contract will specifically demand no-one can join the ranks of the Death Eaters, or otherwise use your new knowledge for illegal purposes. Apart from that, you will be free to discuss the club with your friends or family, or quit at any time. This club is entertainment and to improve your test scores, nothing more."

There was a lot of happy nods at this statement, even from the older hands who, no doubt, remembered what had happened to Marietta Edgecombe.

"So, that's what we'll be up to. Meetings will be held every Thursday evening at seven o'clock sharp in this room. If you're interested, just sign your names on the parchment by the door there. Thanks for listening and I hope to see you next week."

Harry watched as everyone stood and shuffled towards the door. He was gratified that nearly everyone present stopped and signed the membership parchment before they left. Once the last of them filed out of the room, he turned to his friends.

"How do you think that went, then?" he asked.

"I think it went very well. We've got over fifty people who have signed up," Hermione said, examining the parchment.

"If we can make a good impression during the first few meetings, we might pick up a few more members, too," Neville added.

"I have to say, I'm more interested in who didn't come, than who did," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Did you notice we didn't have a single Slytherin here tonight? I suppose they all fell foul of peer pressure, but I had hoped a few of the younger ones might attend."

"Dean and Seamus didn't come either, the immature prats!" Ginny noted angrily.

"Hey, Cho Chang and her skanky mate didn't put in an appearance, either," Ron ginned. "Mind you, Cho wouldn't have lasted very long even if she had joined. Ginny would soon have found an excuse to duel with her and then it would have been game over."

"Oi," Ginny protested, but didn't otherwise dispute her brother's words.

"Well, never mind," Harry sighed. "We've still got a decent number of people who signed up. Everyone who put their signature on that parchment is one less potential recruit for Voldemort and one potential fighter for us. The casual style of the group should prevent any outside interference, too."

"Yeah, plus it should be fun," Ginny added.

"Absolutely. I can't wait to start moulding those young minds in my own image," Luna announced brightly.

Fortunately, she didn't notice the rest of them wincing.

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"Do you know, after spending so much time running round that replica in the Room of Requirement, it seems weird to see people actually walking around here."

Neville looked around the busy streets of Hogsmeade in bemusement. Frankly, Harry could only agree with him. They'd obviously all become far too use to seeing the imitation that the real thing came as something of a surprise. Still, it did give him the opportunity to marvel at the accuracy of the model. Even the loose tiles on the roof of The Three Broomsticks had been meticulously replicated.

"Yeah, don't blame me if I forget where I am and start trying to hex you all," Ron agreed.

"You can certainly try, Ron, but, of course, you so rarely succeed," Ginny teased.

"Hey, I got you and Harry the other week," he protested.

"With Mad-Eye's help," Hermione added innocently.

"Yeah, thanks, for that, luv," Ron said sourly.

"Come on, let's stop quarrelling and get moving, otherwise we'll be out of time before we've been anywhere," Harry laughed, before narrowly avoiding walking into a small, rotund man who merely grinned and raised his hat.

"Will you be taking Ginny to Madam Puddifoot's, then?" Ron asked archly. "After all, you and Cho had such a _wonderful_ time there together."

"I wasn't planning on it, but maybe instead I can arrange for Hermione to have to take you to the hospital wing for a visit?" Harry retorted.

"I think you hit a sensitive spot there, Ron. I'd leave off if I were you," Neville told the red-haired boy in a stage whisper. Ron just grinned unrepentantly.

"I really need to go to Scrivenshaft's," Hermione announced.

"There's a surprise," Ron sighed.

"Well, you don't have to come with me, you know," Hermione retorted angrily. "You could just…"

Whatever Hermione was going to say next was interrupted by the sound of a large detonation from somewhere on the other side of the village. The six friends all stopped in their tracks and looked around nervously.

"What was that?" Neville asked.

"I don't know, but it was bloody loud," Harry replied.

"It must have… wait! Look over there," Hermione exclaimed, pointing ahead of them.

They all looked in the direction she indicated and saw a spiral of black smoke rising lazily into the air. A moment later, the screams began.

"What the hell?" Ron gasped and the distant shouts of terror began to reach their ears.

They were just about to start moving in the direction the noise was coming from, when they saw a witch come running down the street like the hounds of hell were on her heels. She barely slowed as she past them.

"Death Eaters!" she cried. "Run for your lives!"

"Wands out," Harry said firmly as the witch vanished from sight. He felt a strange sense of pride in the fact that his friends didn't hesitate in the slightest.

"What's the plan?" Ginny demanded in a determined voice.

"We work in our usual pairs, but we keep each other in sight at all times, okay?" Harry informed them. "We'll skirt around the back of the Post Office, and hopefully we can catch them by surprise. Make sure you stay in cover as much as possible, and be careful!"

"Right, I've got point," Neville announced, and took off at a quick jog. The others swiftly followed.

They hurried down a small passageway that was next to the Post Office, and paused while Neville cautiously opened the gate at the end of the passage. Signalling it was all clear, they quickly headed into the tidy little garden at the back of the establishment.

The terrain was instantly recognisable from their many training sessions in the Room of Requirement, and they all moved without hesitation. One by one, they vaulted the fence that separated the garden from its neighbours, always heading towards the sound of the conflict. The screams that filled the air were chilling, and Harry fretted at the time it was taking to get into the action. Despite this, they moved at a sensible pace, being careful to watch the surrounding windows for any sign of adversaries. They had nearly made it to the back of the house that faced The Hogs Head, when unexpectedly a tall figure in back wearing a silver mask stepped out from the backdoor of the property.

Harry barely had time to aim his wand before the Death Eater crumpled into a heap, having been hit by spells from Neville, Luna and Hermione. All three spells had been cast silently, and with pin-point accuracy. He made a mental note to thank Mad-Eye Moody profusely for his excellent training when he saw the man next.

"Snap his wand and tie him up," Harry instructed his friends, who instantly complied with his orders. Impulsively, Harry ripped the mask of the prone figure and saw the brutal features of Thorfinn Rowle underneath. The small part of him that used to be Tom Riddle almost snorted with derision that such a prominent Death Eater should be captured so easily.

"Come on, it sounds like a massacre is going on out there," Hermione insisted, galvanising them into movement.

They decided to head into the house from which Rowle had just appeared from, moving stealthily with their wands at the ready. A muffled scream from upstairs alerted them to the fact they weren't alone. Hermione signalled the rest of the group that she would investigate, and Ron joined her as they carefully headed up the stairs. The rest of them covered the other entry points into the house, their ears straining to hear any activity from upstairs.

After an agonisingly long period, they heard a heavy thump coming from above, and a moment later they heard Ron calling 'clear!' letting them know they were alright. Few moments later, Hermione can back down the stairs with her boyfriend on her heels. She had a strange expression on her face, like she wanted to scream and cry simultaneously.

"There was a pair of Death Eaters up there, raping a woman," she spat, visibly trembling with anger. "We did what we could, but we were too late to help her. She was barely able to talk she was so badly injured. She kept repeating about how she couldn't get away. The Death Eaters must have erected Anti-Apparation Wards around here. That poor, poor woman!"

"Standard tactic," Harry noted grimly. "Right, it sounds like most of the fighting is going on in the main street. We'll head out of here and turn left, but remember to move from cover to cover. I expect this is where things will get interesting."

"Just let me at the bastards," Ron growled in a furious voice. Harry hated to think what his friend had witnessed upstairs.

"Okay, just keep your heads," Harry insisted, headed to the front door and opening it a crack. Seeing no sign of Death Eaters, he edged out, before signalling his friends to follow. As soon as they were all outside, they began to head down the street towards the main part of the village. They'd nearly reached the junction when a brace of bright green bolts of light shot past them at a right angle.

"They must be by Zonko's," Ginny declared, her eyes wide but the grip on her wand was unwavering.

"Let me just have a quick look," Harry told them, before casting a Disillusion Charm on himself. He hurried to the corner and peeked round.

The main street of Hogsmeade looked like a battle ground. Nearly all the shops and houses had broken windows and doors, while Gladrags was on fire. Several bodies lay in the street, including a couple wearing the distinctive robes of Aurors. Harry said a silent prayer that Tonks wasn't working today, as it looked like the Ministry staff had been targeted first. He remembered this was a standard Death Eater tactic: eliminate anyone who would be likely to fight back and break the will of those less brave. Terror was their primary objective, and it looked like today they were succeeding in their goal admirably.

Harry's blood ran cold as he noticed a group of four Death Eaters gathered around a man who was lying on the ground. It looked like they were taking turns casting the Cruciatus Curse on the poor fellow, and he was thrashing about where he lay, his voice ragged from screaming. Harry was just about to act, when one of the Death Eaters, obviously bored of the game, cast a Killing Curse, silencing this victim forever.

Darting back into cover, Harry dispelled his Disillusionment Charm and waved the others to him.

"Four Death Eaters standing in front of Zonko's," he informed them briskly. "Hit them with Blasting Curses, as hard and fast as you can. Ready? Okay, on three: one, two…three!"

The six of them charged from cover and immediately began hurling spells at the Death Eaters at a furious rate. The effects were devastating.

Both Ginny and himself had demonstrated they were enormously powerful many times in the last few months, and his other friends were no slouches, either. Even Neville, often called a Squib by unfriendly Slytherins, had been gaining in ability remarkably since he obtained a new wand. The results were that the four Death Eaters virtually disintegrated under the combined assault, as did a large portion of the front of Zonko's.

"Stop!" Harry called and silence instantly fell.

"Fuck me," Ron gasped as he surveyed the damaged they had caused, and the mangled bodies of their foes.

"Come on, we need to keep moving. We're sitting ducks here," Harry insisted and led his friends forward. He glanced at them worriedly, but fortunately none of them appeared to be too affected by what they had just done. That would probably change later, he suspected, but for now they were focused on the task in hand.

They headed down the main street, and soon encountered another pair of Death Eaters. Harry dropped into a prone position so he didn't obstruct his friends' field of fire, and the pair fell before they realised what was happening. Surprise was on their side, Harry realised, as the Death Eaters seemed to believe that having taken out all the Ministry staff they would face no further opposition.

"We need to keep moving," Harry said, climbing to his feet. "These types of raids are generally over very fast. The aim is to get in, do as much damage as quickly as possible, and then get out before reinforcements can arrive. We need to take down as many of the bastards as we can before they leg it."

"Fine by me," Hermione agreed, with a hard look on her face. Harry made a mental note to talk with his friend later, as whatever she'd seen upstairs in that house had clearly affected the normally kind-hearted girl deeply. War had a way of doing that, of course.

In fact, they didn't encounter any further Death Eaters as they made their way down the street. There was still the sound of screams and crying all around, but Hogsmeade seemed strangely deserted. They had just reached The Three Broomsticks when a crash from inside caught their attention. Cautiously, they peered in the window but couldn't see anything. With his wand at the ready, Harry entered through the shattered front door and looked around.

A Death Eater was standing over the body of a young woman whose clothes had mostly been torn from her body. For some reason, the man had removed his mask and he was grinning manically at the sobbing girl, whom Harry realised was his Quidditch teammate Katie Bell. At that moment, the man looked up and saw him, and a triumphant expression came on his face.

"Harry Potter!" he exclaimed. "The Dark Lord will reward me well for this!"

Harry recognised the man instantly: Antonin Dolohov, a sadistic madman for whom rape and torture were his only pleasures in life. It was this man who had nearly killed Hermione at the Ministry just a few months previously, and the man's arrogant assumption that he was an overmatch for him set Harry's blood afire. Dolohov started to move forward, stepping over Katie's shaking body, but purposely Harry raised his wand. Dolohov was ready with a Shield Charm, but it was no use.

Without conscious thought, Harry gathered the ambient magical energy from around him, and moulded it into a five foot long spear of hardened ice. Faster than the human eye could track, he propelled the spear forward and it pierced Dolohov in the stomach. The man grunted from the force of the impact and staggered backwards. With a disbelieving expression on his face, he looked down at the shaft of ice protruding from his body, before his legs gave out on him and he collapsed to his knees. Feebly, he pulled at the spear with trembling hands, but could barely grasp the thick weapon. He vomited blood and began to shake uncontrollable, before toppling over on his side and laying still.

"Katie!" Ginny cried and ran to the girl's side. Hermione and Luna hurried over to help, but the boys hung back, wanting to allow the near-naked girl some privacy.

"Nice spell, Harry," Neville said in a hard, unemotional voice.

"It was more than the bastard deserved," Harry replied.

Neville just patted his shoulder and turned away.

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The next few days proved to be difficult ones for Harry's little group of friends. He noted that all of them had reacted to the battle at Hogsmeade in slightly different ways, although he could tell they were all troubled to some degree.

He was certainly concerned about Hermione, even if the girl herself seemed to be going to great lengths to rationalise her actions. She'd even gone to the library and found accounts of previous atrocities the Death Eaters had committed during the first war, presumably to justify their killing the ones at Hogsmeade. Hermione's resolve had been stiffened by the reports of Katie's condition and the news that the dark-haired witch had been transferred to St Mungo's where she was likely to remain for some time. Harry knew that it was his friend's greatest fear to be tortured and raped by Voldemort's followers, a common fate for Muggleborn witches that fell into their grips. Silently, he vowed that if he had to kill every last Death Eater to prevent that, he would do so willingly.

Ron had been totally the other way, almost boastful about their actions. It was all bravado, however, and in his quieter moments when he thought no one was around, Harry had seen his best friend with tears in his eyes. It was desperately unfair that teenagers such as themselves should be forced to become warriors and take life, but sometimes the world was a cruel and unforgiving place.

Ginny had been quiet and rather clingy, not that Harry minded that too much. She chose not to talk about the fight, but when he looked into her eyes he saw a steely determination. His girlfriend might not like the circumstances she found herself in, but he knew she wouldn't shirk from the fight for a moment. She was a rock, and he loved her for it.

Neville was probably the most relaxed about the whole thing. The timid young man was rapidly turning into a tiger, and from what he'd heard about him from Sirius and Mad-Eye, Neville was starting to become more like his father every day. He went about his daily activities with a grim determination, and scared the living daylights out of anyone stupid enough to start trying to question the group about the events that day. Zacharias Smith had physically fled from his wrath just the previous day.

Luna was something of an unknown to Harry, although she did seem quieter than normal. She'd also given up any pretence of being a Ravenclaw and ate all her meals at the Gryffindor table, and only returned to her dorm to sleep. Harry thought she was doing alright, but nevertheless kept an eye on her.

In truth, the person Harry worried most about was himself. The deaths of seven Death Eaters had left him unaffected, and that was what worried him the most. The fear that he'd had when he'd first accepted part of Tom Riddle's soul into his came crashing back at him, and he fretted that he really was becoming like Voldemort. Was that how he'd end up? A cold, ruthless killer with no regard for human life? The thought left him frightened and depressed.

With these thoughts running loose around his head, Harry had slipped out of the common room that evening, leaving Ginny and Hermione quietly talking in one corner. He needed time to think and examine his own actions, he decided, and that meant finding some solitude. Being a cool, clear evening, he decided to venture down to the Quidditch Pitch, knowing it was unlikely that anyone would be there in the gathering dusk. He was proved right, as he found the place deserted. He took a seat in one of the lower stands, and began to analyse his actions in recent days.

He hadn't been sitting there very long, when he felt a pair of arms snake around his middle and someone lay their cheek against his shoulder. At first, he thought Ginny must have followed him down, but then he realised that whoever this person was, she lacked his girlfriend's distinct, flowery aroma. He whipped his head around, and found himself staring into a pair of large, blue eyes.

"Hello, Harry," Luna said warmly. "You look troubled and in need of a hug. As Ginny isn't here, I thought I'd better take care of it."

Harry laughed and instantly relaxed.

"Evening, Luna. How did you know I was down here?" he asked.

"Oh, I often come down here in the evenings. Dabberblimps are often found here as darkness falls, you know. They follow the insects that come off the lake. Strangely, I haven't seen any tonight."

"Ah, they must be hiding," Harry said kindly.

"They must be," she agreed. "What's troubling you, Harry?"

He sighed deeply. "I'm starting to doubt myself, Luna" he admitted. "Am I becoming too ruthless? Should I have made more effort to capture those Death Eaters, rather than killing them? I effectively butchered Dolohov in cold blood, how will that change me? Do you think I'll end up a cruel murderer just like Voldemort?"

Luna actually laughed. Her laughter was like the sound of tiny bells ringing, and for some reason immediately made him feel better.

"Oh, Harry Potter, you silly boy!" she giggled. "You? Like Voldemort? There's no one in the world more different to him than you."

"But we share the same sort of upbringing," Harry argued. "I crossed a line when I killed Dolohov and… mummph!"

Harry was silenced by Luna grabbing him and planting a firm kiss on his lips. He froze, not knowing exactly why this was happening or what to do next. He was just about to gently try to push the girl away when she released him of her own volition and smiled at him.

"Do you know, that was my first ever kiss? I'd always hoped it would be with you. It was rather nice, I have to say."

"Luna, I…" Harry began nervously.

"I love you, Harry," she said firmly, "and I love Ginny, too. I love Neville and Hermione, and even Ron, although perhaps him a bit less than the rest of you. I trust you, Harry, unconditionally. You will never turn to evil; it just isn't part of you. You might become a bit harsh in your dealings with the Death Eaters, but it's only because you don't have a choice. Those people have made bad decisions throughout their lives, and have warped their minds and their souls. The best thing you can do for them is to free them from the shackles of the awful lives they have created for themselves, and let them try again in the next life."

Harry looked at her in shock.

"Besides, do you really think Ginny will stand by and let you turn Dark? She'll make sure you never turn to evil, Harry, and your love for her will mean you never have to. Just put your love and faith in her, and everything will be alright."

For some reason, Harry felt himself tearing up. Luna's unquestioning faith in him left him feeling humble. She was right; while he had friends like her, and a love like Ginny's, he would never turn Dark. He just needed to trust in them, as much as they trusted in him. Ultimately, Voldemort was always alone, and his obsession with immortality meant he always would be alone. He might surround himself with sycophants and servants, but none of them meant a damn to him. Hadn't Tom said exactly the same thing to him before their souls merged?

"Are you feeling better, Harry?" Luna asked him dreamily.

"Yeah, you're right, Luna. I need to have more faith in my friends and myself. I'm sure Ginny will kick my arse if I ever start going wrong," he grinned.

"Good. Right, I'm off to look for Moon Frogs. Don't stay out here too late, Harry, I'm sure Ginny will be worried about you. Night!"

And with that, Luna jumped out of her seat and skipped off into the gathering darkness. Harry watched her go in silent amazement. Luna certainly was something!

A strange thought occurred to Harry as he watched her blonde hair vanish into the night. Tom had told him that any of the three girls who had accompanied him to the Ministry would make a better match for him than Cho, and he realised, with absolute certainty, that if Ginny had rejected him for any reason, he would have ended up with Luna. While, on the face of it, Hermione would have been the more obvious choice, any relationship with her would have been based purely on respect and friendship, and would probably have been rather flat and passionless. Luna, however, always seemed to be able to look directly into his heart and understand what he was feeling. While he wouldn't have given up Ginny for the world, he felt a brief pang of regret that he would never get a chance to develop a closer relationship with the eccentric Ravenclaw. Luna was just another girl who had been there right under his nose, whom he'd ignored in favour of Chang's vapid good looks. Sometimes, he realised, he could be a complete idiot.

Shaking his head, he stood and headed back to the Gryffindor common room. He was halfway there when another thought occurred to him.

"Oh, bugger! How am I going to explain to Ginny that another girl kissed me?" he moaned.

It was a very nervous Harry Potter who headed back into the castle.

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As luck would have it, Harry found Ginny sitting waiting patiently for him in the common room. She looked up at him with a slightly worried expression on her face as he entered.

"Where did you go?" Ginny asked as he sat beside her on the sofa. "You just vanished without saying anything to anyone."

"Sorry, luv," he replied. "I just really needed some time alone."

"What's been bothering you, Harry? You can't be upset that you killed that piece of filth who tried to rape Katie, can you?"

"No, it's not that," he confirmed. "It was more that I wasn't upset, if you get my meaning. I was afraid that taking a human life seemed to mean so little to me."

Ginny looked at him with a frown.

"Harry, Dolohov barely counted as a human being. He was just a murderous monster. If you hadn't stopped him he would probably have gone on and killed again many times. Just imagine what he would have done to Katie, for instance. I think the simple reason that you're not upset is that you realise that you've done the world a favour."

"Perhaps, but sometimes I worry that I'll end up like Voldemort. Or, at least, I was worried about it," he assured her.

"Oh, what changed?"

"Luna talked some sense into me," Harry explained. "She basically told me that she trusted me and didn't believe I could ever turn out evil. She might have suggested that you would knock some sense into me if I ever did show signs of turning Dark, too."

"Damn right. She talks a lot of sense, does Luna," Ginny grinned.

"Yeah, and she…umm… she also kissed me," he admitted.

"What?" Ginny exclaimed.

"She kissed me," he repeated.

"I… see. What did you do after she kissed you?" Ginny asked in a neutral voice.

"To be honest, I was so shocked I didn't do anything. Then Luna basically told me that she loved all of us, even Ron amazingly, before skipping off into the night to look for Moon Frogs."

Ginny stared at him for a moment, before busting out laughing.

"Oh, Harry, you should see your face! You were genuinely worried about this, weren't you?

"You're my girlfriend and I love you. I was worried because I don't think I should be kissing other girls," he said defensively.

"Yeah, and if it had been any other girl than Luna you would have been picking bogies out of your hair by now. Luna just likes to show these impulsive little displays of affection. She hugs and kisses me all the time," Ginny explained.

"On the lips?" Harry asked pointedly.

"Err, no. I admit I'd be a bit concerned if she did that," Ginny conceded.

"She told me it was her first kiss," he told her sadly.

"Oh, poor Luna!" Ginny exclaimed.

"What, because her first kiss was with me?" he asked indignantly.

"No, you plonker! Because she's never been kissed properly before tonight. She's really pretty and has a lovely figure, but because she's a bit unconventional no boy will go near her. It's pathetic, really."

"Maybe we should set her up with a boyfriend?" Harry suggested. "We did pretty well at getting Ron and Hermione together."

"Who would we set her up with?" Ginny demanded archly.

"Well, err… how about Neville? We know he's available," he said brightly.

"I don't think so," Ginny disagreed. "I think Luna terrifies Neville half the time. He might be becoming more forceful and outgoing lately, but deep down he's straight-laced and unadventurous. I hate to say it but Hannah was probably the perfect match for him. Luna would just blow his mind."

"Maybe you're right," he conceded. "Can you think of anyone else?"

"Sadly, no, not at Hogwarts, anyway. The right boy for her is out there somewhere, but he's probably wading through a swamp or something right now, looking for some bizarre creature."

"Oh, well. It was just a thought."

"It was a nice one, though. Oh, by the way, this doesn't mean you can keep kissing her to make up for the lack of an available boyfriend," she added primly.

"Not even if it's an impulsive display of affection?" he grinned.

"Only if you want me to demonstrate an impulsive display of castration on you," she replied in a level voice.

"Err, I'm sure I can fend her off next time," he confirmed with a gulp.

"Good boy," Ginny nodded approvingly. "Now, as we appear to the last ones down here tonight, you can use those delicious lips on the person they were meant to be for."

He very nearly made a joke about Cho being in the room, but stopped himself at the last moment. After all, Harry would admit to being many things, but suicidal wasn't one of them.

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"Hey, guys."

The friends looked up from their breakfasts to see a familiar person standing by the table looking at them nervously.

"Katie!" Ginny exclaimed and leapt up to hug her Quidditch teammate. Harry and Hermione quickly joined her, while the others, who didn't know the girl so well or were embarrassed, hung back.

"When did you get back? How are you feeling?" Hermione asked the dark-haired girl.

"Just a few hours ago. I've been with Professor McGonagall since I arrived, talking things through, and she's been great. I admit I was really nervous about returning, but I'm starting to think it was the right thing to do."

"Of course it was," Hermione agreed, "and if you need anything, you have only to ask."

"Thanks, guys, but you've gone enough already. If it wasn't for you, that bastard would have… would have…" Katie stuttered, and for a moment looked like she was going to break down crying, but managed to get a hold of herself at the last moment.

"It was nothing. I'm just sorry that we didn't find you sooner," Harry told her.

"Seriously, Harry, I can't thank you enough. I don't think I would have had the courage to come back if I didn't know that bastard was dead. You saved me, and I'll be forever grateful."

"As Harry said, we're just sorry that we didn't get there sooner. That slimy piece of shit Dolohov will never lay his filthy hands on another young woman again," Ginny declared fiercely.

"And that alone makes me feel better," Katie agreed. "Harry, I hear you've restarted up that Defence Club of yours. I'd like to sign up for it. No stinking Death Eater will ever touch me again, I swear it."

"You'll be very welcome," he assured her. "Oh, we've saved your place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, too. We held trails a couple of days ago but insisted your spot was reserved."

"No one was half as good as you, anyway," Ginny added encouragingly.

"Thanks, guys. I'd love to play and I'm looking forward seeing how our new captain runs things, too," Katie smiled.

"I think you'll like it. He's not half as manic as Oliver or Angelina was. We actually finished our first practice session before midnight, would you believe," Ginny laughed.

"Well, that will take some getting used to!" Katie giggled, before turning serious again. "I'm going to go and see my friends now. Once again, thanks for everything and especially you Harry."

With a grateful smile, Katie leaned forward and planted a kiss on Harry's cheek. Unfortunately, half the hall had been watching the exchange between the Gryffindors and a few couldn't resist commenting.

"Look at that!" a voice called out from the Slytherin table. "The slut will spread her legs for anyone. Raped? I bet she was practically begging for it!"

"WHO SAID THAT?" Harry yelled, leaping forward. Behind him, half of Gryffindor were already on their feet and a few of them had already drawn their wands.

"That's enough!" a stern voice cried.

Professor McGonagall strode purposefully into the hall and positioned herself between the Gryffindor and the Slytherin tables. A few intense glares were enough to make her angry charges back down and retake their seats. She looked Harry directly in the eye, almost daring him to say anything. Taking a deep breath, Harry forced himself to relax. Hermione and Ginny in the meantime had both grabbed Katie and were whispering furiously to her in an effort to comfort the distraught girl.

Once she was sure there would be no reaction from the Gryffindors, McGonagall turned to face the Slytherins, many who were openly smirking in her direction.

"Who said that?" she demanded in a cool, but controlled, voice.

Someone sniggered, but no one admitted to making the remark.

"Very well, if the coward who made that disgusting comment won't speak up, I will be forced to punish the whole House. Two hundred points from Slytherin!"

A cry of protest came from the House of Snakes, and several of them leapt to their feet, Draco Malfoy included, Harry noted. Movement from the teachers' table caught his eye, and he turned his head just in time to see Severus Snape rise to his feet with a furious expression on his face. He looked like he was about to confront the Deputy Head when a clear, calm voice stopped him.

"Sit down, Severus. Minerva will handle this matter fairly, I'm sure," Dumbledore announced in a soft voice that still seemed to be able to carry right across the hall. Seeing that he was not to be allowed to have his way, Snape sat back down and scowled at McGonagall. The witch ignored him, and continued to glare at the Slytherins.

"Now, does the person who made the comment have the courage to admit what they did? No? What a pity. Well, I must tell you all that in all my years in education I have never heard a more disgusting, repulsive, offensive comment made in public. If you think I'm going to rest until the perpetrator of this revolting remark confesses, you are sadly mistaken. Until that person makes themselves know to me, Slytherin will be hereby banned from playing Quidditch this season."

There was an audible gasp of shock from all around the hall. The Slytherins had never been punished this harshly before, and many couldn't believe it was happening.

There was some frantic activity among the Slytherins, and even some pushing and shoving. Eventually, a tall, ill-favoured boy Harry recognised at the current Slytherin Quidditch Captain stood up.

"I made that remark, Professor," he admitted.

"I can't begin to say how disgusted I am with you, Mr Urquhart. I would have hoped a senior pupil in your position would have known better, but clearly not. You will report to the Headmaster's office at eight a.m. sharp tomorrow morning, where we will discuss whether you are to be expelled or not. Now sit down and I don't expect to hear another word from you tonight."

McGonagall turned and strode to the teachers table, where she sat next to Dumbledore without a world. Urquhart slumped back down with his head in his hands. A few of his Housemates were trying to comfort him, but he looked inconsolable. Harry's eye was caught by Draco glaring at him with a look of utter hatred, as if the whole incident had been his fault. Harry just returned the boy's gaze unfalteringly. Then, on impulse, he raised a finger and drew it across his neck before pointing at Draco. The blond boy actually looked taken aback that Harry would threaten him in such a manner, and looked appealingly towards the Teachers' Table. Snape, however, appeared to be too busy fuming to have noticed the incident. With a smirk, Harry retook his seat.

"We watch Katie carefully from now on," he told his friends. "If anyone so much as looks at her funny, they'll have us to deal with."

Without any further comment, the six of them returned to their meal, the unspoken agreement that anyone who threatened Katie Bell would suffer firmly in place.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Come on, lover, we need to get back before curfew," Ginny crooned in Harry's ear as they left the Room of Requirement. They'd been making use of the place for some 'private' time quite frequently of late, and they were both finding the arrangement more than satisfactory.

"I suppose," Harry agreed, closing the door behind him firmly. In truth, he was in no hurry to return to the common room, and could have happily stayed with her here all night.

They'd just reached the end of the corridor when a hissing sound caught their attention. Looking round, Harry saw a willowy blonde girl dressed in Slytherin robes lurking in a dark alcove. The girl waved them forward impatiently.

Seeing Ginny already moving, Harry followed her. The alcove was much deeper than he was expecting and had at one time probably housed a large statue or something similar, he supposed. Now, it served as an ideal clandestine meeting place.

"Merlin, I thought you two would be in there all night," the girl complained.

"What do you want, Astoria?" Ginny asked in a frosty voice.

"To talk to you both, obviously," the girl replied in irritation.

Perhaps catching Harry's confused look, Ginny introduced the blonde girl.

"Harry, this is Astoria Greengrass, who's in the year below me. You probably know her sister, Daphne."

"Oh. Yes," Harry confirmed in a cold voice. Daphne was one of Pansy Parkinson's gang, and a thoroughly unpleasant young witch.

"Just don't judge me by the actions of my idiot sister, okay," Astoria said firmly. "She doesn't have a brain in her head, that girl."

"No arguments from me," Harry confirmed in an unfriendly tone.

"Look, its late and nearly curfew," Ginny interrupted wearily. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to warn you," Astoria began in a low voice. "Some of the senior Slytherin boys are plotting to teach Katie Bell a lesson. They're infuriated that Urquhart got suspended and that she escaped punishment by a Death Eater. They're planning to snatch her after Quidditch practice next Tuesday."

"What do you mean; 'escaped punishment'? Katie was just having lunch in a pub when that black-hearted bastard tried to bloody rape and kill her!" Harry raged. "What the hell did she do to warrant calling that punishment?"

Astoria looked at him with a mixture of sadness and contempt.

"She's a half-blood who was sorted into Gryffindor. That's enough for that lot to think she should be punished," she replied. "She's stuck her neck out a few too many times, too. Bell has openly confronted members of Slytherin on matters of blood status and treatment of Muggleborns. There were a lot of people in our House who were looking forward to her falling into the hands of a Death Eater."

"Bastards," Harry growled.

"Hey, I'm not arguing with you," Astoria said quickly. "I think the whole thing is ridiculous. I've yet to see any evidence that there's a blind bit of difference between Purebloods, Half-bloods or Muggleborns. All this blood supremacy crap is just a means of the old, established families maintaining their wealth and power. Frankly, I can think of a lot of better ways of doing that then following that homicidal maniac who calls himself the Dark Lord."

"Okay, so why are you warning us about this?" Ginny demanded. "If this gets out it's bound to put you in danger."

"Why do you think I'm being so careful about this meeting?" Astoria demanded. "The fact is that this plan to attack Bell is stupid and will start a whole heap of trouble. I'm fully aware of how powerful your boyfriend here is, Weasley, and I don't want to be in the firing line when he starts decimating my Housemates for this moronic attack. Besides, the whole idea that a witch 'deserves' to be raped because of her blood status is despicable. I refuse to follow anyone who would endorse such actions. Witches are just as powerful as wizards, and there's no reason we should be looked down upon by a few self-important male cretins who want to feel superior."

"I agree," Ginny noted with approval. "So, who is it that will be making this attack on Katie?"

"Mostly Urquhart's Quidditch mates; Higgs, Pucey, that mob," she confirmed with a sniff. "They intend to Disillusion themselves and stage an ambush as the female Quidditch players leave the changing room. Apparently you girls take somewhat longer than the boys, so they reckon that's the perfect time to attack. Anyway, I gather their masterplan is to Stun the rest of you and drag Bell off into the forest and finish what that Death Eater started. They think it will be a sure-fire way of ensuring they all get a Dark Mark later."

Harry snorted. "So they plan to take on Ginny, do they? That might backfire on them."

"Possibly, but I'm sure we can come up with a little ambush of our own," Ginny noted with satisfaction. "Thanks, Astoria. We won't forget that you've told us this."

"Actually, I do have one favour to ask," Astoria said quickly.

"What's that?" Harry asked, noting the girl's sudden nervousness.

"Just… please don't kill Draco! He's not as bad as you think," Astoria blurted.

"Not as bad as we think?" Ginny repeated in disbelief. "Do you know what happened to me in my first year, Greengrass?"

"Umm, yeah. You were possessed by that book, weren't you? It's pretty common knowledge within Slytherin," Astoria admitted.

"Well, did you know it was Draco's father who planted that bloody book on me? Oh, and I'm pretty sure Draco helped him do it," Ginny spat.

"Yeah, and I had to stand and watch him crow about how the Mudbloods would all be next. It was sickening," Harry said angrily. "Not to mention that little ponce nearly got Hagrid sacked, he was part of that idiotic Inquisition Squad last year, and, trust me, he's been planning some nasty tricks this year, too. You'll never convince me that Draco Malfoy is just a misguided boy who really has a heart of gold."

Astoria signed. "Look, I know he isn't very pleasant, but I'm certain he can change! He just needs to get away from the influence of those awful parents of his."

"What's your interest in this, Greengrass?" Ginny asked. "Why are you so keen to defend him?"

"Well, you see… look, please don't mention this to anyone, but I'm betrothed to be married to him as soon as I turn eighteen."

"Oh, you poor cow," Ginny said sympathetically.

"No, it's alright, really," Astoria disagreed. "Look, I'll level with you. I might not be interested in any of this blood status crap, but I am ambitious. I want a life full of the finer things: a beautiful home, the finest foods and wines, holiday homes in sun-kissed locations, expensive jewellery; the works. Draco is my passage to that lifestyle. Yes, he might be a pompous little shit at the moment, but I've been watching him carefully ever since my father told me about the arrangement. He has a sensitive side, and a good head on his shoulders. If I can just break him of the influence of his status-obsessed father, I'm sure I can turn him into a good businessman and a decent husband. Hell, I know he likes all the things I do, I just need to convince him to stop worrying about politics and start worrying about making more money. I don't think it will be that hard to do, actually."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance.

"What if I was to tell you it was too late?" Harry asked cautiously. "What if I was to tell you that he's already taken a Dark Mark?"

Astoria's face fell. "He wouldn't do that," she objected. "The Dark Lord wouldn't want him until he's graduated, anyway."

"Not even to ensure that he maintains control of his father?" Harry asked. "By slapping a Dark Mark on Draco, Voldemort has ensured Lucius's total obedience. I gather old Snakeface wasn't too happy with Lucius after that debacle at the Ministry, and might decide to punish him by giving his son tasks which Draco couldn't possibly hope to complete."

"Besides, if the bastard Lucius does go insane in Azkaban, Voldemort will still have direct control of the Malfoy fortune this way. Sorry, Astoria, I don't think there's going to be much gold left by the time you wed Draco, assuming he survives that long," Ginny added.

Astoria closed her eyes and grimaced.

"Damn," she muttered bitterly.

"Look, I'm not going to make you any promises regarding Draco. If he keeps his nose clean and doesn't cause any trouble, then he'll have nothing to fear from me. I might even arrange for the disposal of those awkward in-laws for you. But if Draco does anything to endanger innocent life, I swear he'll end up like that miserable piece of shit, Dolohov. You might want to tell him that," Harry said firmly.

"That might be a problem," Astoria smiled weakly. "I don't think Draco even knows I exist. My father might have told me about the arrangement for us to marry, but I know for a fact that no one has told Draco. Why do you think Pansy still clings onto him like a leech?"

And with that, the blonde Slytherin girl slipped passed them and vanished down the dark corridor.

"What do you think?" Harry asked his girlfriend.

"I think she's barmy if she can make anything of Draco Malfoy but, hey, I know all about unrequited love," she replied with a grin.

"It wasn't unrequited, I just hadn't noticed you properly at that point," Harry sniffed. "Still, I'll stand by what I said; if Draco behaves himself he has nothing to fear from me. I think there's a snowball's chance in hell that will happen, but still."

"And the Slytherin boys who aim to teach Katie a lesson? What are we going to do to them?"

"Something very, very nasty," Harry grinned evilly.


	13. Chapter 13 – A Thousand Stars

**Chapter 13 – A Thousand Stars**

AN

I like this chapter – it has a little bit of everything in it, from a vengeful Hermione to Harry giving lessons on the correct way to fight a counter-insurgency war.

Huge-mega thanks to Arnel. I swear my spelling auto-correct is changing things when I'm not looking!

* * *

"Luna's brilliant with those kids, isn't she?" Ginny noted.

Harry looked over to where their blonde friend was leading a group of excited first years in a dodging exercise that involved them running between a number obstacles while she tried to hit them with a Tickling Charm. Quite a few of the group were already rolling on the floor helplessly roaring with laughter. After the last of the first years, a dark-haired Ravenclaw, fell to her knees, cradling her sides with laughter, Luna rushed in and began tickling the helpless children the old fashioned way. A number of them tried to retaliate, and soon Luna was laughing as loudly as her pupils.

"Yeah, they really seem to have taken to her, don't they?" Harry agreed. "I guess it's because she seems so childlike and innocent herself. They can relate to her."

Luna had by this point clambered to her feet and cancelled the charms. Her excited pupils all leapt up and surrounded her, chattering excitedly. She just smiled happily at them, praising each of them in turn. Harry was amazed Luna could actually remember all their names.

"Are they nearly finished?" Hermione asked, seating herself next to Harry and looking over at the first years expectantly.

"I think so. Luna looks to be just about done with them," Ginny confirmed as Ron and Neville wandered over and joined them. Sure enough, the first years all began to drift towards the exit, but not before Luna had hugged each and every one of them. Surprisingly, none of them, not even the boys, looked in the slightest embarrassed about it.

"Oh, they're all doing so well!" Luna declared happily as she skipped over.

"You're doing a brilliant job with them," Harry confirmed. "Giving you the first years to teach was a good move."

"I'm really enjoying it. They're all so much fun to teach, and so enthusiastic," she gushed, as excited as he'd ever seen her.

"As heartening as this all is, we have other things to discuss," Hermione interrupted primly. "What are we going to do about those Slytherins and their planned attack on Katie?"

"Well, as I see it, we have two options," Harry began. "We either tip the teachers off, and I'm sure McGonagall will deal with the matter properly, or we deal with it ourselves. Why don't we go round the group and everybody can voice their opinion. Hermione?"

Hermione looked at them in turn with a hard look in her brown eyes.

"I know you all think that I'm going to insist that we get the teachers involved, and until recently I probably would have, but I really don't think that will be sufficient in this case. The idea that those boys think Katie should be punished just because she escaped being raped by Dolohov is just reprehensible! And even if the teachers do catch them, what will happen? I expect they'll be expelled at worst, and they'll just go to Durmstrang or someplace similar to complete their education, where they should have gone in the first place! No, that's not enough for me. We need to teach these bastards that they can't use rape as a weapon. I say we deal with it ourselves."

The group stirred uneasily, clearly unsettled by Hermione's words.

"I think Hermione's right," Ron ventured. "If you lot had seen the state of that poor woman we rescued in Hogsmeade… no, the authorities will do bugger-all to these thugs. We need to teach them a lesson ourselves."

"I agree," Neville said. "Even if the Ministry does pull its finger out and actually imprison them, we've all seen how secure Azkaban is now. V… Voldemort will probably bust them out with a few weeks, and reward the little shits for good measure. Nah, we should handle this."

"Luna?" Harry asked turning to her.

"These people have no morality and think they know best," she shrugged. "You can't re-educate them, Harry, you can only stop them doing it again. We should take care of them."

"Ginny?" he asked finally.

"I say we string the bastards up by their balls," she spat. "Hermione hit the nail on the head, as far as I'm concerned. We have to make sure that they never rape a woman again."

"Okay, I guess it's unanimous then, because I think we should deal with them, too," Harry agreed. "The only question is, how do we do it and what do we do with these gits afterwards?"

"I've been thinking about that and I have a plan," Hermione said in a determined voice.

"Is this linked to that little trip you took to the Restricted Section of the library using my cloak the other day?" Harry asked with a grin.

"It is indeed, and I found a very useful book while I was there. This is what I think we should do…"

Twenty minutes later, the group left the classroom with a fully-formed plan and a lust for justice in their hearts.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Where's Ginny tonight?" Demelza asked slightly too loudly as they left the girls' changing room.

"Oh, she's meeting up with Harry tonight. She's very lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend," replied Katie in a dreamy voice which was rather unlike her.

"Yeah, isn't she?" Demelza replied flatly a moment before she was hit by a bright red beam of light and she crumpled to the ground.

"Hello, Bell," a masked man purred as he stepped out of the darkness. "Did you really think you'd escaped punishment, you dirty little slut?"

Three more robed, masked men appeared and formed a rough semi-circle around Bell.

"What do you want?" the dark-haired girl demanded defiantly.

"Why, we want you, you half-blood whore," one of the young men chuckled.

"We're going to make you wish that Dolohov had actually had the chance to finish with you," another growled. "Compared to what we're going to do to you, you'd have gotten off lightly."

"You do realise he was probably going to kill me after he'd finished with me. You do realise that, don't you?" Bell pointed out.

"Oh, you'll be begging for death by the time we're done with you," the leader laughed. "Bind her!"

"What about the other little slut? She's not bad looking," one of the others commented.

"Yeah, bring her too, if you want," the leader replied in an offhand manner.

"Great, we'll really have some fun tonight," the other smirked.

"Oh, I very much doubt you'll be having any fun tonight," Bell said calmly. "In fact, I think you'll all have just about the most horrific time of your lives."

"Oh? And how do you reckon that, bitch?" the leader snarled.

"Because of this," Bell smiled, and snapped her fingers.

The four masked young men all toppled to the ground as they were simultaneously hit by Stunning Spells.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Terence Higgs awoke slowly. Blinking, the world around him slowly came into focus. Above him was the canopy of a forest, illuminated by the orange light of a bonfire burning nearby. He tried to rise, but realised that his hands and feet were secured to the ground by tight cords that bit into his skin. It then dawned on him that he was naked.

Raising his head as much as he could, he saw Potter's disgusting pet Muggle-born, Granger, standing casually, her attention absorbed by a book she was reading by the light of the fire.

"You'd better let me go right now, Mudblood, if you know what's good for you," Higgs snarled.

Granger continued to ignore him, but instead the near Squibb, Longbottom, lurched into sight and kicked him in the side – hard.

"Shut up, pig," Longbottom growled with such ferocity that Higgs decided to remain quiet for the moment. Wincing with pain, he tried to look around, but could only dimly make out his friend, Adrian Pucey, pegged out in a similar manner to him nearby. Adrian's head lolled, suggesting he was still unconscious. Desperately, Terence tried to figure out what was happening.

"I think I'm nearly ready, Harry," the Mudblood announced suddenly, closing the book she was holding.

From the other side of the bonfire, Potter came striding into sight. Terence felt his lip curl in disgust at the sight of the boy, although he also felt a stab of fear, too. Potter was the arch enemy of the entire Slytherin House, yet he always seemed to come up smelling of roses no matter what scrapes he got into. Higgs wasn't certain that he believed that Potter and his friends had actually killed Dolohov and those other Death Eaters, but there was no mistaking that the half-blood bastard was becoming more powerful. The question was, what was he up to?

"Great, do you need us to do anything, Hermione?" Potter asked.

"No, I'm all set up," the girl replied in an offhand manner. "You might want to let Katie have her say, though. I doubt this lot will be in a mood to listen once this is over."

"Katie?" Potter called.

Then, out of the darkness, their intended target appeared. Dimly, he noticed the girl was dressed differently to when he'd seen her earlier, and he began to wonder if it had really been her that they'd accosted. This whole thing was starting to feel like a setup.

Bell marched up until she was standing at his feet. He felt himself burn with embarrassment that he should be so helpless before this filthy wench. He glared at her, hoping to intimidate her with his eyes.

"You bastard," Bell spat at him. "You dirty, worthless piece of shit!"

"You can talk about begin worthless, you little… oof!"

Terence's rebuttal was ended by Longbottom's boot, which again smashed into his side. Gritting his teeth, he tried to stop from crying out, even if he was certain that a rib had just been broken.

"I was going to deliver some lecture to you, telling you what a racist idiot you are, but what's the point?" Bell continued. "You won't listen. Your type never do. You're so convinced of your own superiority that you think that you can do any bloody thing you like. Well, you can't. There are people who will always stand up to your sort, and they are far better than you in every way. They agree that there's no point in talking to you, because you'll never change. Instead, we're just going to make sure that you never get the chance to force yourself on a witch again, or pollute the world with any offspring from your foul seed. Do it, Hermione!"

With that, Bell turned away and was instantly replaced by two other witches. One was Potter's red-haired little whore and the other was that mad Ravenclaw bitch that hung around with them. The two witches stood either side of Granger, completely expressionless. Then, without warning, the three of them turned towards the bonfire as one. Higgs watched in fascination as the three of them began to chant; a low, melodious mantra that he couldn't quite make out.

They continued for some time, with the strangely rhythmic beat of their cadence almost lulling him to sleep. Then, just as his eyes began to droop, Granger let loose an inhuman screech that echoed through the darkened woods. Then, ominously, she turned and faced him with her wand drawn and pointing straight at his groin.

 _"_ _Virilitas Eversio!"_ she cried and a beam of greenish-blue light hit his lower body.

Higgs screamed. There was no way he could not have, as he was suddenly in agony. He struggled against his binding with all his might, crying out in pain as he did so. It felt like the lower half of his body was on fire.

Eventually, the pain subsided. He looked up through tear-streaked eyes and saw the three witches and Potter standing glaring at him. Longbottom was to one side, and that red-haired ape Ron Weasley was also watching him impassively.

"What did you do?" he managed to gasp.

"It was a very old spell," Granger informed him calmly. "I suppose you could compare it to chemical castration. From this point on, you are completely sterile and will never be able to father children, which is a blessing for the world as far as I'm concerned. In fact, your libido will drop to virtually nothing and you'll be unable to perform in any way."

"You'll never have a stiffy again, Mr Limp-dick," the Weasley girl chuckled evilly.

"I especially liked this spell as it can only be performed by at least two witches," Granger continued. "I think that's especially fitting bearing in mind what you planned to do to Katie and Demelza."

"You bitch! You BITCH!" Higgs screamed. "I come from a noble pureblood family. It's my duty to carry on the family line!"

"Not with that thing, you won't," Lovegood giggled, pointing at his shrivelled manhood.

"I'll kill you. I'll kill the lot of you! Don't think you'll get away with this," he threatened.

"You won't even know that we did it," Granger smiled thinly. "We intend to Obliviate you and dump you back up by the changing rooms. You won't even remember Katie talking to you. No, you'll wake up in a few hours, completely unaware of what happened, and with notes pinned to your chests informing you that if you try anything this stupid again that you'll be killed."

"And don't think we won't do it," Longbottom snarled. "We polished off those Death Eaters in Hogsmeade easily enough. You bunch of pricks won't be much of a challenge."

"You won't even know you're impotent until the first time you try any sexual activity. Mind you, I expect you wank-off most nights, so you'll probably figure it out soon rather than later," Weasley inform him smugly.

"I'll remember," Higgs said defiantly. "I'll remember you did this to me, and I'll make you pay."

"I doubt it, sunshine. Harry will be doing the Obliviation and he's powerful enough to wipe your memories out completely," Weasley sniffed.

"Come on, we have the other three to take care of first," Granger said firmly.

Crying with rage, Higgs pulled at his binding. How had it all gone so wrong? How had they been so humiliated by a bunch of mixed-blood kids? He bitterly pondered those thoughts, until he was distracted by the sound of his friend Pucey, screaming in pain as the spell was cast…

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry peered intently down the street from the roof of Madam Puddifoot's. He had to admit, the place looked a lot better from up here. Try as he might, he couldn't see Dumbledore in sight, anywhere.

A moment later, Ginny glided silently into view and landed next to him with the grace of a cat. She grinned mischievously at him as she made herself comfortable.

"Any sign of him?" Harry asked.

"Nah, I think he's hiding indoors, somewhere," she confirmed. "I think he's getting wise to us ambushing him from above."

He smirked. Teaching Ginny how to fly had been a really good idea. Not only did she absolutely love the sensation of flight without any visible means, together they made a formidable airborne team. Their ability to leap from rooftop to rooftop, and to literally fly out of trouble, had made them an equal match for Dumbledore in their mock combats. The old wizard had been forced to resort to some fairly sneaky and underhand practices to even keep even with them.

"No point asking to get hit. Let's stay here for a while and see if he tries to find us," Harry reasoned.

Ginny just nodded, and stretched out on the slates of the roof, keeping a sharp lookout in the opposite direction Harry was looking.

"Do you think Hermione's alright?"

The question caught Harry completely by surprise. He turned and looked at his girlfriend with a quizzical expression.

"I think so. Why, do you think there's something wrong with her?" he asked.

"Well, not as such… but… have you noticed she's a lot less sympathetic than she used to be? Not so long ago you could go to her with any problem, be it schoolwork or something more personal, and she'd be happy to talk it through with you. She was always looking for the good in people, too. No matter who it was, she always tried to say something positive about them. But since Hogsmeade, she's changed a bit. She has a lot less time for anyone, and she is a lot less tolerant, too," Ginny explained.

Harry paused for a moment. While it was true that his friend had been a lot quieter of late, he hadn't really noticed a major change in her personality. She was extremely helpful to everyone in the Duelling Club. In fact, now he thought about it, perhaps a bit too helpful; like she was desperate for everyone to learn how to defend themselves to a reasonable standard.

"The attack on Hogsmeade affected us all," he admitted. "Hermione's always been a sensitive sort, and I doubt she liked being caught up in that sort of thing one little bit. Besides, being a Muggle-born she knows what to expect if the Death Eaters ever get hold of her."

"Yeah, that's true, but I think it goes deeper than that," Ginny said with a frown. "We never did find out exactly what she and Ron saw when they went upstairs in that house to rescue that woman. Ron certainly won't talk about it, and I'm beginning to think it was something that's had a pretty major effect on the pair of them."

"Really? I haven't noticed much change in Ron. He's been a bit bolshie to the Slytherins lately, I guess, but after everything that's happened I can't really blame him for that."

"It goes a bit beyond bolshie," she snorted. "McGonagall warned him the other day that he'll lose his prefect's badge if he keeps trying to pick fights with the Slytherins. More worryingly, Hermione never seems to try and stop him these days, either. I almost get the feeling that she's keen to start a bit of trouble with them, herself. Just watch her next time Pansy Parkinson or any of her mates come into a room. I swear Hermione looks like she wants to strangle the girl with her bare hands."

"I can't really imagine her like that, but I do promise to keep an eye on her a bit more. Do you think we should try and make her discuss what happened at Hogsmeade?"

"I'm not really sure either of them will talk about it. Merlin knows, I've already tried," Ginny told him with a shrug. "I do think we need to watch them, though. Whatever they saw that day has left a pretty big mark on them, and they might do something foolish. I know that's the sort of thing you'd expect from Ron, but I honestly think Hermione's ready to lash-out, too."

Harry sighed. "Okay, I'll keep an eye on them as much as possible. Hopefully they just need a bit of time to work it out of their systems."

"Maybe, but it's been four weeks since the incident, and Hermione seems to be getting more angry, not less. She keeps muttering about how stupid the Wizarding world is in comparison to the Muggle one. I guess the whole Muggle-born thing is getting to her."

"To be discriminated against purely because your parents weren't magical is completely illogical to her," he agreed. "She's a hundred times smarter than all those morons in Slytherin, but they still look down on her because of her blood. It is bloody daft when you think about it."

"I'm not arguing," Ginny agreed. "Still, I thought I should mention it. As you say, hopefully she'll calm down given time."

"I'm glad you did. You know I'm a bit thick when it comes to noticing stuff like this," he grinned.

"Well… obviously!" she laughed.

"Hey, I never said I… aaaaggghhh!"

Harry's last comment was cut short as he suddenly found himself covered in a green, sticky substance. Beside him, Ginny also found herself covered from head to foot in the same oozing gunk.

Looking down, he saw a grinning Dumbledore standing in the street with his wand still pointed at them.

"Sorry, was I disturbing you, at all?" he called out, his voice heavy with mirth.

"Oh, he's going to pay for that!" Ginny growled.

Wiping some of the slime of his face, Harry could only nod in agreement.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Despite Harry's best hopes, three days later something occurred that further soured Hermione's mood. They had all finished lessons for the day, when they were intercepted by Dumbledore as they made their way to the Great Hall.

"Harry, I wonder if I could have a moment of your time after dinner? I have some rather grave news that I must impart onto you."

"Sir, if it's important, I think my friends should hear it, too," Harry replied, having already noticed Hermione and Ginny's frowns.

For a moment the old wizard looked at him thoughtfully.

"Yes, I have no doubt that you will relay the news to them anyway, so I might as well save you the trouble. If all of you would like to come to my office after six o'clock, we'll chat then."

Without a backward glance, Dumbledore hurried off. Ginny's frown deepened as she watched him.

"What do you think that's all about?" she demanded.

"More bad news," Hermione said darkly. "That's all we ever heard these days."

They ate their dinner in comparative silence, and Harry took the opportunity to watch his bushy-haired friend carefully. While she and Ron had become extremely close this term, only now did he notice that the pair of them seemed to huddle together as if for protection. Ron seemed to be less interested in the food on his plate, too, and frequently put down his knife and fork to whisper in his girlfriend's ear or give her a small rub on the back. He glanced at Ginny, who nodded at him, obviously aware of what he was seeing.

After they had finished their meal, the six friends all trooped up to the headmaster's office with a certain sense of foreboding. When they entered the elegant room, they found Professor McGonagall already there, deep in conversation with Dumbledore.

"Ah, there you all are," Dumbledore said as they all filed into the room. "Take a seat, if you would."

"What's the matter, sir?" Harry asked immediately. "Has something bad happened?"

"It has indeed," the old wizard nodded solemnly. "Yesterday, a group of Death Eaters attacked the village of Tatenhill in Staffordshire. There were numerous fatalities, and the Muggle government are blaming the whole thing on a ruptured gas pipe which caused a major explosion and a subsequent fire. I expect this will be only the first of many such incidents to come."

"Tatenhill? I've never heard of it," Hermione announced. "Why did they attack there?"

"Seemingly, for no reason at all," Dumbledore confirmed. "I suspect it was picked for destruction completely at random as a morale building exercise for the Death Eaters after their comparative mauling at Hogsmeade."

"A morale building exercise?" Hermione repeated angrily. "That's how they increase morale, is it? By killing innocent people? How many died?"

"The latest figures indicate over fifty fatalities, with a number of people seriously injured. To the followers of Voldemort, the slaughter of Muggles is always a cause for celebration, I'm afraid."

"That's sick! It's just plain sick!" Hermione raged. "How can anyone seriously support this kind of behaviour? How come the Wizarding world hasn't risen up to eradicate these sadists?"

"Sadly, Miss Granger, too many wizards and witches, Muggles are simply of no interest. I'm sure if they actually witnessed such barbaric behaviour first hand, they would change their tune, but as it stands news of such events would probably be met with a shrug and an off-hand comment that it was nothing to do with them."

"There was nothing about this in any of the papers," Luna interrupted. "I'm sure if Daddy knew about it, he would have published something."

"I believe the Ministry is largely suppressing this information. Minister Scrimgeour believes that printing details of this massacre would actually help the Death Eaters' cause, rather than turn the populous against them, and I fear he has a point," Dumbledore explained.

"That's ludicrous!" Hermione practically yelled.

"Sadly, Miss Granger, I believe it to be true," McGonagall chipped in. "The news that Voldemort's forces have committed another atrocity so soon after Hogsmeade would only create fear and panic among the population, which will play into his hand. At least with the attack on Hogsmeade they were able to report that a number of the Death Eaters had been killed. No such success can be reported here."

"Exactly, and, in addition, those in the magical community who harbour ill feelings towards Muggles might even be encouraged to join the ranks of the Death Eaters by such an easy victory. Propaganda is a vile practice at the best of times, but in such situations it must be denied to the enemy."

"Sweet Merlin," Neville muttered in disgust.

All this while, Harry had been thinking furiously. The attack on this innocent Muggle village was a normal tactic for Voldemort, and one that had served him well in the past. There had to be a way to counter such attacks, though, hadn't there?

"So, what are we doing to prevent such things happening again?" Harry demanded.

"I'm sorry, Harry, there is very little we can do," Dumbledore replied sadly. "The enemy will always have the element of surprise and the ability to unleash terrible damage extremely quickly. Even the Ministry's Magical Detection system can't react that quickly, and the Death Eaters will have been and gone long before Aurors or the Enforcement Patrols can arrive."

"If we can't hit them where they're going to be, we need to be hitting them where they are now," Harry retorted. "What's being done to hunt them down? There must be quite a few suspect locations where these bastards are hiding. Are they being searched?"

"Not exactly," Dumbledore admitted uncomfortably. "Most of these suspect locations are owned by wealthy and influential families, and the Ministry has no authority to just randomly search these places."

"Bullshit!" Harry raged. "What about the homes of those in Azkaban? Surely they can be searched, can't they? Even if they can't, why can't the houses be put under covert surveillance? Even if they are under magical protection, the chances are the Death Eaters will have to leave cover to Apparate to their targets and we can spot them when they do."

"It would be quite a dangerous task for anyone to try and covertly observe a location occupied by Voldemort's followers," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Hey, it comes with the territory! I'm sure most Aurors didn't sign up just because of the great health care package. Besides, are you telling me that someone like Mad-Eye couldn't successfully monitor, say, Malfoy Manor without getting caught? We need to start being more pro-active and aggressive, sir. No one has ever won a war by being totally defensive."

"Besides, Monitoring Spells could be cast at these locations," Hermione pointed out. "I'm sure they could be used to alert the Ministry if a large group of people Apparated from one location, and no one would be at risk. Harry's right; we need to hunt down these devils before they can start butchering innocent people again."

"While I can't fault your reasoning or ideas, this is not the way things are normally done," Dumbledore said with a frown. "The Minister is a former Auror himself, and I suspect that such new methods will seem totally alien and rather unchivalrous to him."

"You know, sir," Harry began with a wicked grin, "perhaps it's time for me to meet the new Minister. Fudge was always keen for me to be seen as supportive of the Ministry, and I'm sure Scrimgeour will be the same."

"Oh? And would you be prepared to give such an endorsement?" Dumbledore asked in surprise.

"Under certain conditions," Harry said in a determined voice.

Both Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged a worried glance, while Harry's friends looked at him approvingly.

Sometimes, it was easier to work with the system than try to break it.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Several days later, Harry received a summons to report to the headmaster's office again. He'd been expecting the call, and had actually been a little surprised it had taken so long to arrange. Clearly, the new Minister for Magic was a busy man at the moment.

Entering Dumbledore's office, he found in addition to the headmaster himself, a tall man, standing looking out of one of the windows. There were also a couple of other people wearing Ministry robes, one of whom was clutching a camera, but Harry instantly sensed these were unimportant support staff.

The tall man turned to regard him as soon as he entered, and Harry instantly recognised Rufus Scrimgeour from his description. Ron and Luna had told him that the man had a passing resemblance to an old lion and, with his grey-streaked, tawny mane of hair, Harry could see why. It was the predatory glint in Scrimgeour's eyes that most made Harry think of a large cat, however.

"Ah, Harry, there you are," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I would like to take the opportunity to introduce Rufus Scrimgeour, our new Minister for Magic. Minister, this is our most famous pupil, Harry Potter. I'm sure you do not need to be told of his exploits."

"Indeed," Scrimgeour said and walked towards Harry with a slight limp, before offering his hand. "Young Mr Potter's deeds are legendary. It is his most recent ones that I'm particularly interested in, however."

Harry glanced at the two support staff, who were both standing by the wall trying to look inconspicuous.

"Perhaps, Minister, we should discuss such things in private," Harry said cautiously.

Scrimgeour actually looked a little surprised, but turned his head and nodded at the two Ministry staff, who immediately hurried out of the room. If the Minister was surprised by Harry's request, he was even more shocked when Dumbledore rose from his seat and also ambled out, his hands clasped behind his back and a whistled tune on his lips.

"Why do I get the feeling this visit has been carefully engineered?" Scrimgeour noted as soon as Dumbledore left.

Harry shrugged. "I thought you wanted to see me, Minister," he replied. "At least, that's what Dumbledore told me."

"Yes, and up to this point he has been very careful in preventing such a meeting. I'm curious to know why things have changed, and why he is now so comfortable leaving us alone when previously he'd been so protective of you?"

"Circumstances change," Harry smiled, before taking a seat. Scrimgeour did likewise, and sat with his legs folded, regarding him intently with his yellowish eyes.

"I'm fully aware that my predecessor reached out to you a number of times, before suddenly deciding that you were more of a liability than an asset," Scrimgeour commented. "Of course, that backfired on him badly when it was proven that you'd been telling the truth all along."

"Fudge always was an idiot," Harry noted. "If he'd listen to me and Dumbledore earlier, we could have been prepared to fight Voldemort properly. As things stand now, we're going to have a hard time beating him as he's managed to establish himself firmly. But that's really what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Scrimgeour said with a raise eyebrow.

"Minister, I consider myself something of an expert when it comes to the Dark Lord," he began. "I'm pretty confident when I say there is no living person who knows more about Voldemort, or Tom Riddle to give him his real name, than me. With that in mind, I have to tell you that the Ministry is going about trying to defeat him all wrong."

"Really?" the Minister snorted. "You're trying to tell me, an Auror of over thirty years' experience who fought in the first war against the Dark Lord, that we're doing it wrong? I'm starting to think Fudge was right about you, boy."

"Tell me, Minister, is there another person who has fought Voldemort face to face and lived to tell the tale? Is there anyone who actually managed to defeat him? Come to that, has there ever been anyone that evil bastard ever expended so much effort to kill?" Harry inquired with an edge to his voice. "I've made it my business to learn all I could about him, as my very life depends upon it. Between Dumbledore and I, there is no greater source of knowledge about him and his followers."

Scrimgeour stared at him intently. "Let's say for a moment that your words are true. Why do you think the Ministry is approaching this confrontation incorrectly?"

"Fudge has already ensured that we're on the back foot in dealing with the Death Eaters by allowing Voldemort time to consolidate and build up his forces," Harry began. "From this point, his army will just continue to grow. The Dementors will be next, lured away by the promise of as many fresh souls as they want. Unless we can prevent it, the giants will follow, and why shouldn't they? They have no love for humans. The werewolves will probably follow, too, as successive governments have stripped away their rights and made them outcasts. Remember, only a handful of them are blood-thirsty monsters like Fenrir Greyback. All the while, more and more witches and wizards will flock to his banner, either through fear or greed. A large chunk of the pure-bloods will follow him as they secretly believe in his racist, anti-Muggle agenda. In short, the more time Voldemort gets to prepare, the more formidable his army will be."

"That, young man, is nothing I didn't already know," Scrimgeour spat. "The question is: how do you stop him?"

"By not allowing him the time and space to build his forces, and demonstrating to the less fanatical and those just out to earn themselves some gold that being a Death Eater is a dangerous business. We need to be a lot more aggressive, and start hunting down Voldemort's followers wherever they might be."

"And how do you propose that we should do that?" the Minister demanded angrily.

"By stop being a politician and start becoming a general," Harry retorted. "You've been so scared of stepping on the toes of the rich and powerful that you've effectively disarmed yourself. You need to start getting serious about things. So high-ranking members of the Ministry object to random checks for Dark Marks or to see if they've had the Imperious Curse cast on them? Tough! They'll just have to lump it. So what if they cause waves? Remember, Lucius Malfoy was Fudge's closest advisor and look how he turned out."

"While I won't dispute what you say, I'm walking a fine line, here," Scrimgeour admitted, sounding a lot less dismissive. "A no-confidence vote in the Wizengamot could see me thrown out and someone a lot more amenable to You-Know-Who's ideas installed."

"The only people who would vote against you are Voldemort's followers. If you instigate an immediate policy of arresting anyone with a Dark Mark, or who has proven to support him in the past, you'll have no problem maintaining a clear majority in the Wizengamot," Harry pointed out. "That old defence of being under the Imperious Curse might have worked for Fudge, but we both know it's bullshit."

"You do realise that I'd effectively be declaring war on a section of our own society if I do that, don't you?" Scrimgeour countered.

"Sir, they've already started the war. Look at that attack on Hogsmeade, not to mention the raid on that Muggle village."

"That's classified," the older man snarled. "I suppose Dumbledore told you about it, did he?"

"He did," Harry confirmed unrepentantly, "and bearing in mind that my friends and I have so far been the only ones to mount any effective response to the Death Eater attacks, you can't really blame him, can you?"

"The fact that you and that little group of followers you have just happened to be in the right place at the right time doesn't mean much," Scrimgeour pointed out. "The Dark Lord's forces can appear out of nowhere and be gone before we can mount any response. Just because you got lucky doesn't mean that we will."

"Exactly, and this is what I meant about being more aggressive. We can't afford to sit back and let them pick us off willy-nilly. Hell, many more attacks on the Muggles like the last one and the Statute of Secrecy will be in danger. No, we've got to hunt them down, to go on the offensive. Arrest the ones who are trying to remain an active part of our society. A watch also needs to be kept on all property belonging to any suspect Death Eater. If you haven't the manpower to watch all the places, then Monitoring Charms will tip you off if any large-scale activity takes place, like a group of the bastards Apparating out on a raid. Once you've pinned down the locations they are using, you need to hit those places hard with strike teams made up of Aurors, Hit Wizards and curse-breakers. Disrupt their operations by taking out their bases and making them look over their shoulders all the time."

"That… could work," Scrimgeour agreed reluctantly.

"Of course it could. Oh, and you need to take the kid-gloves off your personnel, too. Trying to Stun and capture your suspects is all well and good, but the time for that is long past. Your Law Enforcement staff need to be cleared to use lethal spells without repercussions. That's especially important as I'm guessing Azkaban isn't looking too secure at the moment, is it?"

"How can you possibly know that? Even Dumbledore doesn't know about the latest breakout!" the Minister gasped.

"I said I knew how Voldemort thought, didn't I?" Harry countered. "Have the Dementors all gone over to his side?"

"Yes, and they slaughtered most of the prison guards before they left, too," Scrimgeour admitted. "We're using the holding cells in the Ministry at the moment, but we don't have a lot of spare capacity."

"There must be somewhere in the Department of Mysteries you can use. Hell, if it comes to it, hire the goblins to run your prisons. I bet the little buggers would love it. You'll need the extra space if you're going to start rounding up anyone with a Dark Mark. Voldemort's been particularly generous in granting them. Just arresting a few poor sods who were genuinely subjected to the Imperious Curse isn't going to cut it."

Harry and his friends had recently read about the arrest of the Knight Bus conductor, Stan Shunpike, who had to rate as the most unlikely Death Eater recruit going. Still, if he was under the effects of the curse, imprisonment was probably the safest thing for the man.

The Minister stood and walked over to the window. He looked out for a moment, before turning back to Harry and giving him an appraising look.

"How is it that a sixteen-year-old schoolboy has come up with more ideas about how to defeat You-Kno… I mean, V…Voldemort, than all my senior advisors and supposed experts?"

"As I said, I know him best, and I've got the most to lose if he isn't stopped, I reckon," Harry pointed out bitterly.

"Very true," Scrimgeour nodded. "Very well, there's wisdom in what you propose. I had hoped we could contain this without ripping our society apart, but I guess it's too late for that. If only that moron Fudge had gotten his finger out… well, I suppose there's no point worrying about what might have been. I rather think, young Harry, that we'll be working together from this point."

"Glad to hear it, Minister," Harry grinned. "Shall we fetch in your photographer and make it official?"

Scrimgeour smiled and nodded.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Despite so much positive going on his life, Harry couldn't help but feel a certain sense of foreboding as autumn progressed. The reason was pretty obvious to him and all his friends: Halloween was coming.

Despite it generally being regarded as one of the most popular celebrations of the year at Hogwarts, for him it was a time of dark depression, when he was most aware of exactly what Voldemort had taken from him. Add to the fact that bad things normally seemed to occur around that time, too, and it was no surprise that he dreaded the holiday.

His friends were all aware of his blackening mood, with Ron and Hermione in particular being extra supportive. Strangely, Ginny seemed to adopt a 'business as usual' approach, and even started mildly berating him when he became too sullen. While he understood what she was doing, he couldn't help but feel she was being a little unsympathetic.

As it turned out, he couldn't have been more wrong.

The 31st of October actually, for once, passed without incident. There were no reports of Death Eaters attacks, or even trolls going on the rampage in the dungeons. Through the diligence of his friends, Harry didn't even have to suffer any cruel jibes from mean-spirited Slytherins. Generally, he had to admit, the day was going usually well.

At that moment, he was sitting in the common room with Ron and Hermione, waiting to go down to the Great Hall for the annual Halloween feast. Ginny had yet to make an appearance, and Neville had already left to meet up with Luna. While he couldn't truthfully say he was looking forward to the feast, he wasn't loathing the idea, either.

"Right, time to head down," Hermione decided suddenly, rising to her feet.

"What about Ginny?" Harry protested as Ron also stood up.

"Oh, you'll have to wait for her," Ron replied breezily. "See ya later."

And with that, his two best friends vanished through the portrait hole without a backward glance. Considering how protective the pair had been of him throughout the day, he thought this was strange behaviour.

"Hi, Harry," a voice greeted him.

He turned his head to see Ginny standing at the bottom of the staircase that led to the girls' dormitory, a radiant smile on her lips.

"Hi yourself. I was getting worried you'd drowned in the shower, or something," he replied grumpily. "The others have already left, but I'm sure we can catch up with Hermione and Ron if we hurry."

"No."

"Err, what?" Harry said in surprise.

"I said, no," Ginny repeated firmly. "We're not going to make it to the feast this year."

"Why not?" he asked suspiciously.

"Because its time you had a few positive memories of this holiday. I'm sure the feast will be fun and all, but we're going to be partaking in more traditional entertainments tonight."

"Like what?" he asked, genuinely intrigued at what she had planned.

"This is Samhain, to give it its proper name. A night when spirits walk the earth, and when the walls between the world of the living and the dead are at their thinnest," Ginny announced with a familiar blazing look in her eyes. "A night when witches take to the air and fly!"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah! That's what we're going to do, Harry; you and me. We're going to soar through the moonlit skies, and then later I've arranged a little supper of own in the Room of Requirement."

"Sounds like fun," he admitted. "Are we taking our brooms or flying under our own steam?"

"Under our own steam," she grinned.

"Okay, that definitely sounds more entertaining than just sitting around stuffing ourselves," Harry grinned.

"Of course," Ginny replied haughtily before offering her arm for him to take. "Shall we?"

"Do lets," he smirked.

They made their way out of the common room and down to the ground floor and out of the large, oak doors. The night proved to be crisp and clear, with the moon waxing but sufficiently bright to light up the grounds clearly. With only the occasional cloud in the sky, it looked like a perfect night for flying.

Harry was slightly surprised when Ginny began to lead him in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, but he said nothing until they were standing outside the locker rooms.

"What are we doing here?" he asked her curiously.

"I thought it would be a good place to leave to leave our clothes while we fly. After all, we don't want some git to come and nick them, do we?"

Dubiously, he looked around. He could already see his breath clearly in the cold night air, and the temperature promised to drop further with the possibilities of a frost.

"Umm, Ginny, as much as I love getting naked with you, it's a bit parky to be running around in the buff, isn't it?"

She looked at him in surprise. "You realise that you can regulate the temperature of the ambient magic that lifts us as we fly, don't you? I always make sure I heat the air up a bit when I fly."

He looked at her in stunned silence for a moment, before he sighed and shook his head. It was so obvious! Heating the air around him as he flew would be simplicity itself.

"That's brilliant, luv," he grinned. "See, this is exactly why I need you as a girlfriend. I'd have never have thought of that."

"Naturally, Harry; you're a boy. You probably think it's more macho to freeze your bits off," she laughed.

"Having swum in the lake during the Triwizard Tournament, I can assure you that there is nothing macho about your bits freezing off," he assured her with a snort.

"Just as well. I've grown very fond of your bits," Ginny replied saucily. "Come on then, let's get out of these clothes and into the air!"

They vanished into the changing room, both of them using the girls' section, only to emerge cautiously a few minutes later. While they assumed everyone was at the feast, they couldn't be totally certain. Fortunately, no one was in sight.

They looked at each other expectantly, before they both effortlessly rose into the air. Despite a chilling mist that clung to the ground, Harry felt warm and secure in his blanket of magic. Although unnecessary, he instinctively stretched his arms out in front of him as he flew, and noticed Ginny did the same.

"Superman's got nothing on me," he muttered to himself as they began to pick up speed.

Ginny clearly had a plan, as she banked sharply to the right and began to head straight for the lake. It was probably a good idea, he realised, as it would be extremely unlikely that any casual observers might spot them as they flew over the water. As they approached the expanse of water, a smile came to his lips. It was a breath-taking night. The dark waters glistened in the light of the moon and the sky shone with a hazy glow. The stars had started to appear in the heavens above, glittering like diamonds.

With his previous sour mood completely dispelled, Harry looked over towards his girlfriend, who was flying parallel to him. Her hair was billowing behind her like a fiery red mane, and the moonlight was reflecting off her pale skin. Truly, she looked like some wondrous, unearthly deity rather than a fifteen-year-old girl. Hecate herself would have greeted Ginny as an equal that night.

Unable to restrain himself, Harry started to bank towards her. Seeing him approaching, Ginny grinned and turned on her side, her arms open to welcome him. He slid into her embrace even as they sped above the dark waters of the lake.

Their pace began to slow as he kissed her, eventually coming to a complete halt near the center of the lake. They hung in the air, their bodies entwined as they greedily ran their hands over each other. Harry was barely aware that they were drifting gently, maybe thirty feet above the water, such was his complete preoccupation with the fiery witch in his arms. Dimly he realised that they were discharging an enormous amount of magic, but he simply didn't care. Let them raise a storm! It would be a fitting accompaniment to their passion.

"Harry, I want you," Ginny gasped urgently.

No force on earth could have stopped him after he heard that. Pulling her closer to him, he slid into her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around him as they spun in the air, oblivious to everything other than each other. A brilliant flash of lightning briefly lit up the sky, illuminating Hogwarts against the skyline, but Harry was oblivious. All he cared about was thrusting himself deeper and deeper into the girl he loved.

Ginny cried out in pleasure, her hair whipping around her head and shoulders as she urged him on. A sudden blast of icy wind turned the previously calm waters into a raging mass of waves, but still they drifted on, untouched by the mounting chaos around them.

There seemed to be voices in the wind as it raced by them, calling to them and screaming their approval at their union, but Harry ignored them. He knew he was close to climaxing, as was Ginny, and he could barely maintain any conscious thoughts. His body was operating on automatic, his senses completely overwhelmed and incapable of action. Then, without warning, he came; empting himself into Ginny with such a sense of release that he thought he might die from pleasure. Ginny howled like a wounded beast, her body bucking and shaking against him.

And then they were done. The skies cleared as quickly as they had clouded over, the raging waters were suddenly calm, while the air became still. Clutching each other desperately, the two lovers drifted gently and without direction, too wrapped up in each other to know or care where they were going.

Eventually, Ginny lifted her head and looked directly into Harry's eyes.

"Oh, that was unreal!" she gasped, her beautiful eyes wide with wonder.

"It was indescribable," Harry agreed, unable to even begin to put what he currently felt into words.

Ginny just smiled and hugged him even tighter as they floated onwards, deeper into the night. Never again would Harry just associate Halloween just with unpleasant events. Indeed, he realised, he would probably never be the same ever again.


	14. Chapter 14 – Turn of the Season

**Chapter 14 – Turn of the Season**

Another chapter with no dead bodies. Shocking, isn't it?

I know a lot of people are quite taken by the thought of pairing Neville and Luna together, but I've never thought it made much sense – they're just too different. Still, as this is a sort of 'Ministry Six' type of story, I should at least make a token effort in that direction. I did come perilously close to titling this chapter 'Neville's Sausage'.

Huge wobbly thanks to Arnel, with sprinkles on top.

* * *

"Do you think I should schedule an extra practice session for the Quidditch team?" Harry pondered as they made their way down to breakfast one morning.

"Whyzaat?" Ron mumbled, still half asleep.

"We have a game against Hufflepuff coming up next week," Harry pointed out, with only a slight note of exasperation.

"Blimey, you're right! I'd completely forgotten," Ron exclaimed.

"Ron Weasley actually forgot about a Quidditch game? Oh, my poor heart!" Hermione cried, clutching at her chest theatrically.

"Hey, I do think about other stuff, you know," he responded with a frown. "What with the Defence Club, all this extra training we've been doing on top of our normal lessons, I've barely had time to think."

"I know, and it's very commendable that you're devoting your time to more important things than playing sports," Hermione told her boyfriend warmly.

"Yeah, like trying to get in her knickers whenever they have the chance," Ginny whispered in Harry's ear.

Suppressing a snigger, Harry decided that an extra practice session would probably be a good idea, even if it put more pressure on their already packed timetable. Although they'd won their first game under his captainship in early October, he doubted it would be so easy this time. Since Urquhart's sacking as captain of Slytherin, Draco Malfoy had taken his place and had proven to be an ineffectual leader. His game plan had seemed to consist of insulting the Gryffindors at every opportunity and yelling at his team when they didn't do what he wanted. In fact, he'd been yelling at Crabbe, who had been demonstrating that he had no tactical awareness whatsoever when it came to being a Beater, when Harry had effortlessly caught the Snitch. The 260 to 20 victory had proved satisfying, if not much of a challenge to anyone on the Gryffindor team.

"We'll put in a couple of hours practice tomorrow night," he announced as they descended the stairs towards the Great Hall. "No point overdoing things."

"I'll make sure Katie and Demelza know," Ginny promised.

"Yeah, and I'll tell Coote and Peakes. Let's face it, they need the practice," Ron grumbled.

"Actually, tomorrow is a good night to do it," Luna piped up. She been waiting for them at the top of the stairs. "We'll be hosting the first and second years in the Defence Club that night, and Neville and I can look after them."

"Yeah, no problem at all," Neville confirmed. "They're a good bunch, after all."

"Great," Harry announced, happy with the plan.

By that point, they'd reached the Great Hall and they were looking forward to enjoying a hearty breakfast on this cold autumn morning. They'd just entered when a commotion coming from the Ravenclaw table caught Harry's attention.

"What's going on over there?" Ginny asked.

Harry looked over to where a number of the younger Ravenclaws appeared to be having a dispute with a couple of the older students. Things appeared to be getting quite heated and several of the youngsters had their wands out.

"Those are my first years!" Luna cried and began to run towards the table. A second later, the rest of them followed.

"What's going on here?" Luna demanded as soon as she reached the table, not sounding like her normal dreamy self, at all.

"We found out who has been nicking your stuff, Luna!" a plump first year girl cried, pointing at a pair of Ravenclaw girls who were standing glaring at her. "It was these gits!"

"That's a lie," one of the girls, who Harry thought was called Loretta, spat.

"We saw you coming out of the dorm with Luna's trainers," a small, blond boy retorted. "She's the only one who wears pink shoes, so they must have been hers!"

"Yeah, and I've seen you coming out of there with loads of other things. You've been going through Luna's trunk, haven't you?" the girl accused them again.

"Oh, I was rather hoping it was the Gulping Plimpies," Luna said sadly.

"Shut it, you midgets," the other fifth year snarled at the youngsters. "You've got no proof that we did anything. Anyway, who cares what happens to that weirdo, anyway. She's a disgrace to our House."

"Luna's brilliant!" the small girl screeched, and was immediately backed up by the other first and second years.

"Have you two been stealing items from another pupil's trunk?" Hermione demanded, obviously feeling the need to take charge.

"Shove off, Granger, this is nothing to do with you!" Loretta growled.

"Well, as the Ravenclaw prefects don't appear to be doing anything, I can see it's up to me," Hermione retorted.

Harry looked down the table to see if this actually invoked any response from the Ravenclaw prefects. As he recalled, Cho and Marcus Belby were the seventh year prefects, and Anthony Goldstein and Mandy Brocklehurst held the sixth year positions, but none of them seemed in the least bit interested in stepping in.

"Well, this is still nothing to do with you. You Gryffindors can shove off and mind your own business!" Loretta yelled.

"Then perhaps you can explain the situation to me, Miss Cornhill," a squeaky voice demanded.

They turned and saw Professor Flitwick standing there, looking rather intimidating despite his diminutive size.

The first and second years immediately launched into a confused and noisy explanation of what had been happening, until the Professor managed to quieten them.

"Children, please! One at a time! Perhaps it would be best if Miss Granger explained what has occurred."

"Miss Lovegood has been having her personal items taken and left in random places around the castle for weeks," Hermione explained. "At first, she thought it might have been Peeves or one of the other ghosts, but these first and second years caught these two fifth years coming out of the girls' dorm carrying some of Luna's possessions. It appears that they have been stealing items from her trunk and hiding them. I have to say, Professor, I'm also a little worried about the lack of interest your prefects have in this matter. They seem quite happy to sit back and just watch."

"They're all useless!" one of the first year boys shouted. "They never give us any help, even when we ask for it. Luna's been the only person in our house that has actually explained anything to us!"

"Yeah, we were all taking the long way round to get to Herbology lessons until she showed us a shortcut. She's been fantastic!" another added. "When we ask the prefects anything, they just tell us to get lost!"

"Miss Chang, Mr Belby; come here please!" Flitwick called out. Reluctantly, the two senior Ravenclaw prefects stood and walked over. They looked at their Head of House sheepishly. "Well? What do you have to say about these accusations?"

"We've been really busy, sir. It's our NEWT year, after all, and I know you want us to do our best," Cho replied defensively.

"That does not excuse you turning away first years who require your help!" Flitwick declared firmly. "Now, what do you know about these thefts?"

"It was just a harmless prank," Belby said with a shrug.

"You knew about this and did nothing? That's terrible!" Hermione yelled angrily.

"Excuse me, Professor, if I could just say something?"

They turned to see the Head Girl, Tamsin Applebee, hurrying over.

"Certainly, Miss Applebee. If you can add any clarity to this situation, I would be most grateful," Flitwick nodded.

"This isn't the first incident I've heard of regarding senior Ravenclaw prefects neglecting their duties. I've had to speak to both Chang and Belby about not keeping to their patrol schedules. As they both said they were doing extra studying, I let it slide with just a warning, but the fact that they're also providing no help to the younger pupils doesn't surprise me. I thought you should know, sir."

"I see," Flitwick said coldly. "Clearly, I'm going to have to have a serious think about the prefect positions, as you two clearly don't seem to be able to cope. You will both report to me after dinner tonight. As for the rest of you, let me make it quite clear that theft is a grounds for expulsion from this school. If I hear of anyone taking items from another pupil's trunk or locker, they will be expelled, and, no, I don't care if it was meant to be a prank or not. Am I clear?"

There was a mumbled indication of agreement from the Ravenclaw table.

"Good, now, Miss Cornhill and Miss Ettington, the items that you took from Miss Lovegood's trunk, where are they?"

"We hid them in the Owlery, sir," Ettington admitted, close to tears.

"Then you can go and retrieve them right now, and anything else you may have taken from her. Go now!" the small man barked.

The two girls practically sprinted from the room.

"Miss Lovegood, if you experience any more of your possessions going missing, please do let me know. In fact, if you experience any other form of harassment come and see me," Flitwick told her kindly.

"Thank you," Luna beamed at him.

"Oh, and while I'm at it, ten House points to you first and second years for standing up for a fellow House member," Flitwick smiled at them, before the grin vanished from his face. "Sadly, I don't think that will do much to counter all the points I'm going to have to take from my prefects."

With a sad nod at his assembled pupils, he headed back to the teachers' table.

"I'm going to have breakfast with my young friends, here," Luna declared. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Sure, Luna, come over when it's time for class and grab me," Ginny said warmly.

The Gryffindors all headed to their own table and sat down. Mercifully, no further dramas occurred and they were left to eat in peace, although Harry couldn't fail to notice both Ginny and Hermione casting dark glances towards the end of the Ravenclaw table where the senior pupils were seated.

The peace couldn't last, however, and as Harry and his friends were leaving the hall after their meal, a sharp call made him look round. He saw Cho marching towards him looking deeply upset.

"How could you, Harry?" she complained bitterly. "I might very well lose my prefect status because of this! How could you just stand there and let them berate me like that?"

"What did you expect me to do?" he replied coldly. "You're the one who has been turning a blind eye while those little bitches played their cruel games on Luna. Not to mention it sounds like you've done nothing to help the junior members of your house. I think you deserve a dressing down."

"I was just trying to get a head start with my studies," she protested. "These exams are important!"

"Oh, so everything else can go hang just because you want to do well, is that it?" he snapped. "You've been given a job to do, Cho, and if you can't do it you should just step aside."

"Why are you being so nasty to me?" she wailed. "We use to be so close! Ever since you started going out with that toxic midget you haven't got the time of day for me anymore."

"How would you like an extended stay in the hospital wing?" Ginny said threateningly.

"Besides, Chang, Ginny is a thousand times better suited to Harry than you'll ever be," Hermione added. "Just because you went out with him once you should stop acting like he owes you something."

"See, Harry, you're surrounding yourself with total bitches!" Cho raged at him. "What she did to poor Marietta wasn't enough for Granger, was it? No, she has to try and get me sacked as a prefect, too. You better watch out, Weasley, she might decide she suddenly wants to replace you as Harry's girlfriend."

Hermione calmly stepped forward and slapped Cho across the face hard enough to send her reeling. She stood over the sobbing Ravenclaw with a hard expression on her face.

"I have no interest Harry romantically, you stupid girl. But I am his best friend, and I know the kind of person who is best suited to him, and let me tell you, Chang, that's not you!" Hermione said in a slow, angry tone. "Do you think this is some sort of game? That it's all about you? You stupid bitch! People are dying out there while you're moaning about how hard done by you are. Edgecombe could have got people killed by turning on us, so she could count herself lucky she got off with just a few spots! As for you, you need to get your head out of your backside and start taking your responsibilities seriously. There are low-life scum in Slytherin who love to prey on first years, so you need to start keeping an eye on them. That's a prefect's job, and if you can't do that you better turn your badge in."

"If you ever insult Ginny or any of my friends again, you won't like the results," Harry added, looking down at the girl in disgust.

The six of them turned and walked away, leaving Chang sprawled out on the floor crying.

"What did I ever see in her?" Harry muttered in disgust as they headed for the stairs.

"You were young and stupid," Ginny said, grinning. "You've matured a bit since then, which is why I thought you deserved my company."

"Thank Merlin for that," he laughed, slipping his arm around her shoulders as they walked.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The Norwegian Ridgeback dragon bristled the spikes along its back and let loose an ear-splitting roar, huge globs of acidic saliva dripping from its jaws as it did so. Harry casually walked up to the huge beast and laid an affectionate hand on its nose.

"It's incredibly lifelike, Harry," Dumbledore congratulated him, walking over to join him. "I would never have guessed it wasn't the real thing."

"It's brilliant!" Ginny said enthusiastically.

"Thanks," he said. "I did have to spend quite a long time studying pictures of it before I could get it right. Until I had a clear image of the dragon in my mind I couldn't even begin to start creating this thing."

"Think how useful this could be! Conjure up this beauty during a Death Eater attack and you'd scare the living daylights out of them," Ginny smiled.

"Indeed. Top marks, Harry. When I asked you to create an illusionary image, I had not considered this would be your contribution. Now, Miss Weasley, what do you have for me?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, I was thinking along completely different lines," she admitted. "I was thinking more of something that could be used to hide something in plain sight. So I created this."

Stepping back, Ginny raised her wand and with a quick swish a small two-story Muggle house appeared right in front of them.

"Wow! That's fantastic," Harry exclaimed.

Dumbledore, in the meantime, had walked up to the house and tapped it a couple of times with his finger.

"Remarkable. Am I correct in thinking that not only is this illusion completely solid, you have worked in various spells to hide whatever is contained inside it?"

Ginny nodded.

"Most wonderful. If threatened, you could cast this illusion over an object or person and they would remain completely hidden from sight. Do you have any idea how long you can maintain this illusion?"

"Ah, that's the only downside of this," she admitted. "It's fine if I'm around to maintain the image, but if I'm out of sight of it, it only lasts half-an-hour or so."

"Still, it is a great achievement. In fact, you have both surpassed my expectations by a wide margin," the old wizard smiled.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said happily.

"Professor, while we have you here, can we discuss the Christmas holidays?" Ginny asked abruptly.

"Ah, I wondered if you would be raising this topic with me, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "You do not wish your boyfriend to have to return to his relatives' home during the break, I presume."

"No, sir, I don't," she replied defiantly.

"I think it would be a bad idea, anyway," Harry interrupted. "The protection the house affords me will cease come next July and, frankly, I don't want to be anywhere near the place once it does. If it becomes known that I don't live there anymore it will be safer for the Durselys, too."

"I do see your logic, Harry," Dumbledore admitted, "although I would like to maintain the protection as long as possible."

"If I go back in the summer, that house will end up being nothing more than a trap for me. Umbridge clearly knew of its location, and we can therefore expect that Voldemort will now, too. The Ministry isn't terribly good keeping secrets now, is it? No, Privet Drive is bound to be watched by this point, and I can't afford to be cornered there. It's best if I don't return."

"I suppose," Dumbledore agreed reluctantly. "Do you wish to remain here at the castle during the Christmas break?"

"Actually, sir, Ginny mentioned her family might have to spend the holiday at Grimmauld Place. I gather Arthur Weasley is a bit worried about security at the Burrow what with Order members being targeted aggressively at the moment. I'd like to join them there, if I could."

Dumbledore nodded. "It's as safe a place as anywhere, although I hesitated to suggest it as I thought it might bring back bitter memories for you."

"12 Grimmauld Place is my property now, so I should get used to the place," Harry said firmly. "Besides, it will give me a chance to have a think about what changes I want to make to it. It might well be my home one day soon, and I don't want it to remain in the state it's in now."

"Yeah," Ginny agreed, "besides, it might end up being my home too, and I'm not living in a filthy hovel like that!"

"Ah, it seems Miss Weasley has designs on marriage already, Harry," Dumbledore chuckled. "Would you like me to distract her while you make a run for it?"

"Too late, sir," Harry replied tragically, "she already knows all my best hiding places."

"Oh well, send me the wedding list when it's completed. I'm sure I could spring for a nice set of chinaware."

Harry and Dumbledore's laughter was quickly stilted by Ginny's frosty glare. It was remarkable how much she resembled her mother when she did that, Harry thought ruefully.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"…and so it just leaves me to thank you all for your hard work this year and wish you all a Merry Christmas," Harry said, addressing the assembled sixth and seventh years. "Oh, the Defence Club has a little Christmas prezzie for each of you which my friends will be handing out as you leave. Have a good break."

Numerous shouts of 'Merry Christmas!' and similar good wishes were directed at him, before the senior students all began to shuffle out the door. He'd worked them hard today, dividing them into two groups and alternatively making one group defend a small illusionary wood while the other attempted to overrun it. The club members had all taken to the task enthusiastically and generally performed well. He was proud of them.

As they headed out of the door, each of the students was handed a neatly wrapped parcel by either Ginny, Hermione or Ron. Each parcel contained one of Fred and George's patented Shield hats, gloves or scarves, along with a brief instruction sheet. Hopefully, none of the group would figure out the actual monetary value of the gift they had been given for a while. To Harry, the Galleons were well spent if it saved even one person from injury.

The last few people were just leaving the Room of Requirement when Harry noticed one girl hanging back. He recognised her as being Susan Bones, the busty, red-haired Hufflepuff. The young witch was considered something of a knockout by most males in the castle, although Harry's opinion of her was tempered by the fact she'd been one of Cedric Diggory's loudest supporters during the Triwizard Tournament and had worn one of the 'Potter Stinks' badges rather prominently. Fortunately, it didn't appear to be him that she was waiting to speak to.

"Neville? Can I have a quick word?" Bones asked.

"Umm, yeah," Neville confirmed nervously. Ernie Macmillan was still being rather unpleasant to him and generally he wasn't well thought of by the Hufflepuffs.

"I'm not here to cause trouble, I promise!" Bones said quickly, perhaps noticing Neville's apprehension. "I have a message from Hannah that she wanted to pass on. She's really sorry that Ernie's being a prat to you, and she has told him to stop but, well, things are a bit complicated between them at the moment and she doesn't want to upset him."

"I understand," Neville sighed.

"Hannah knows you weren't trying to break her and Ernie up, and I think she would have loved to have gone out with you if she was free but… she and Ernie have been together for quite a while now, and she wants to patch things up between them. Ernie's her oldest friend and she hates it when they fight. You understand, don't you?"

"Yeah, I said I did, didn't I?" Neville repeated with a hint of tetchiness creeping into his voice.

"Yes, well, Hannah just wanted you to know that," Susan said nervously, aware of the gaze of all of Neville's friends on her. "Look, for what it's worth, I think Hannah's making a mistake. She and Ernie are growing in different directions and anyone can see they're not suited for each other anymore. Hopefully she'll come to her senses soon, but she's just too loyal for her own good, sometimes."

"Yeah, thanks for passing on the message, Susan. It's appreciated."

With a quick nod, Bones hurried out of the room, clutching her present tightly. As soon as she'd gone, Neville's shoulders slumped.

"Never mind, Neville. It's like Susan said: I really can't see Hannah and Ernie lasting much longer. They're always rowing," Hermione said sympathetically.

"You and Ron are always fighting, but I don't see you and him breaking up anytime soon," he pointed out.

"That's not rowing, that's a form of foreplay for those two," Ginny said with a smirk.

"She's not wrong," Harry laughed. "Come on, mate. Let's all sit down for a while."

Almost unbidden, the Room of Requirement created a small table with six chairs arranged around it. The group all seated themselves.

"I'm okay about it, really," Neville insisted. "I mean, it's not like this has come out of the blue. I asked her out and she said no. No problem."

"That's not true, Neville," Luna admonished him. "I know you really like Hannah and you're really upset that she chose Macmillan over you. You've admitted how hurt you feel to me!"

"Umm, yeah, but Luna, that conversation was meant to remain private, okay? Besides, I'm a lot more accepting of it now," Neville said, suddenly looking very uncomfortable.

"I should hope so," the blond girl sniffed. "Not that any of your friends have helped."

"Eh? What have we done?" Ron protested.

"Flaunting your relationships in front of poor Neville like that! How do you think he feels seeing you and Hermione sneaking out at night to do naughty things together? Or Harry and Ginny for that matter. The poor boy feels like he's the only one not getting any in the whole of Gryffindor Tower!"

"Err, Luna…" Neville tried to interrupt.

"Why, the frustration was evident on his face! Merlin knows what state he'd be in if I hadn't tugged him off the other day," Luna continued.

A sudden silence descended on the Room of Requirement as they all turned to look at Neville in surprise. For his part, Neville turned an amazing shade of red and appeared to be trying to slide under the table.

"Luna," Ginny began hesitantly. "I don't think you should just blurt out what you and Neville get up to in private. I think you've embarrassed him."

"What? Why?" Luna said in puzzlement. "I thought boys liked to boast about their sexual exploits. I heard Dean Thomas boasting that he'd managed to get his hand down Lavender Brown's knickers just the other day."

Harry turned to his girlfriend with a 'told you so' type of expression on his face. She just shrugged and turned back to her friend.

"Some boys do, Luna, but only the complete prats like boasting in public. I don't think Neville fits into that category, do you?"

Luna looked at Neville for a moment, who by now had buried his face in his hands and was half-way under the table.

"Oh, I suppose not," she admitted. "In that case, forget what I said. I never played with Neville's sausage at all."

Hermione was by this point making strange noises like she was choking and Ginny's mouth was twisting in an odd manner. Harry was sure both girls were seconds away from collapsing in laughter.

"Why don't you three ladies head down to dinner?" Harry suggested. "We'll stay here and clear up."

Ginny, who looked like she was in physical pain trying to hold in her laughter, just nodded and quickly stood up. She grabbed Luna and guided her out of the room, with Hermione close behind.

"Bye, Neville," Luna called as she was dragged out. "I'll see you later when we definitely won't be doing any of those things we did again!"

As soon as the door closed, Ron and Harry turned to Neville, who was steadfastly refusing to remove his hands from his face. The bright red glow around his neck was rather a giveaway, unfortunately.

"So… you and Luna, eh?" Harry began, looking to Ron for support. "Congratulations."

"Yeah, I mean, I know she's a bit odd, but Luna's a real looker," Ron said encouragingly.

"Definitely! She's turned into a real fox," Harry agreed readily.

"You think so?" Neville asked, peeking out from between his fingers.

"Yeah, she's hot. If I wasn't with Hermione, I'd definitely be interested," Ron confirmed.

"I just… I just feel like I'm using her," Neville admitted miserably. "Don't get me wrong; I really like Luna, but I'm not sure I like her in that way, if you know what I mean."

"Why did you let her toss you off, then?" Ron asked in surprise.

"I didn't plan it," Neville admitted. "I just got talking to her and I was saying how depressed I was about Hannah, and before I knew it she had my trousers around my ankles and she was going at it. I really couldn't summon the will to stop her at that point."

"Well, from what she said, I'm not convinced she thinks that there's anything between the two of you," Harry offered. "Perhaps you should talk to her and see what her expectations of all this are. Knowing Luna as I do, I think she's just trying to make you feel better, mate. She has a kind heart, and just didn't like to see you frustrated and unhappy, I reckon."

"You think so?" Neville asked uncertainly.

"I agree, actually," Ron nodded. "That does sound exactly like the sort of thing Luna would do."

"Great, now I really feel like I'm taking advantage of her," Neville moaned.

"Just talk to her," Harry insisted. "I don't think you're giving her enough credit. Luna would never do anything she didn't want to do."

"Okay, I will," Neville agreed.

"Great, now let's head after the girls. I'm starving," Harry said firmly.

The three boys headed out of the door, all equally determined never to speak of the matter ever again if they could possibly help it.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry stood back and watched with amusement as Molly Weasley swept her two remaining school-age children into her arms and proceeded to hug the stuffing out of them. He shouldn't have been so quick to laugh, however, as a second later the woman released Ron and Ginny and pulled him into a fierce embrace, too.

"Oh, there you are, Harry dear," she said warmly. "I'm so glad to see you're all right. After that horrid business in Hogsmeade, I was beside myself with worry about you all."

"Really, Mrs Weasley, we're all okay. All those extra lessons we took in the summer really paid off and we were able to protect ourselves just fine."

"You shouldn't need to protect yourselves, but I suppose there's no way to avoid it these days," she said sadly.

"So, what have we got planned for the holidays?" Ginny asked, obviously trying to distract her mother.

"Oh, we should all have a wonderful time this year," Molly replied, brightening up. "I know it's a shame we can't be at the Burrow for Christmas, but better safe than sorry, eh? I must say, Harry, that awful little house-elf of yours has certainly bucked his ideas up. Why, Grimmauld Place was very nearly clean when we arrived! I thought perhaps we could spend the next couple of days doing a spot of redecorating before we put the Christmas decorations up. Just a few coats of paint in a few rooms, just to make the place a bit brighter."

"It certainly needs it," Ron muttered. He'd been quite unhappy to hear that the holidays would be spent at the Order's headquarters, having bad memories of how dull the place was.

"I think that sounds like a great idea, Mum," Ginny said brightly. "We only end up using a few of the rooms, anyway, and it won't take long to spruce the place up. Especially if we're allowed to use magic."

"Yes, well, as time is a factor I suppose we can do it that way just this once," Molly confirmed reluctantly.

"It will be educational," Harry pointed out. "They don't seem to teach basic stuff like that in school, although I have no idea why. It would be really useful."

"I think they assume most children would learn that sort of thing at home, Harry," Molly explained. "The same with cooking and cleaning spells."

"That's a bit unfair on the Muggleborns, isn't it?" he said with a frown.

"It is, but then again, would Muggleborns use spells like that in a non-magical home? The risk of discovery would be too great, I should imagine."

"It still seems unfair," he replied, but let the matter drop. After all, it wasn't exactly Mrs Weasley's fault things were the way they were. "So, who else will be joining us to celebrate this year?"

"Bill and Fleur will be coming over on Christmas Day, but are spending the rest of the break with Fleur's family. The twins promised to come over as soon as they shut their shop on Christmas Eve, but Charlie can't get the time off, I'm afraid."

"Charlie? Charlie? You know, Ron, I swear I used to know someone called Charlie, but it's been so long that I can't exactly remember," Ginny said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Nah, I can't seem to remember, either," Ron grinned. "Was he that little bloke who used to work in the bakery in the village?"

"Hmm, he might be," Ginny replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

"Stop it, you two. It's not easy for your brother to get time off, you know," Molly said firmly, although her stern expression soon crumbled. "It would be nice to see more of him, though."

"Never mind, Mum; you still have us," Ron reassured her.

"Yes, well, never mind," Molly mumbled, ignoring Ron's outraged expression. She did manage to wink at Harry while her back was turned to her son, however.

It didn't take long for them to get to Grimmauld Place, and Harry saw that Mrs Weasley hadn't be exaggerating. The house did look a lot cleaner. Unfortunately, the portrait of Walburga Black still hung in the hallway. She shrieked in disgust as they entered.

"Filth! Miscreants! How dare you befoul the ancient home of the Black Family! Be gone, and never contaminate this place with your vile presence…"

Harry walked straight up to the portrait and drew his wand.

"Shut up! As owner of this house, I order you to be silent!" he roared.

Walburga was suddenly silent. She glared at him with undisguised hatred.

"I don't care what you think of me, you stuck-up old hag, but you will do what I say! If I hear a peep out of you once during this holiday, or you insult my friends in anyway, I will evoke my right as owner of this house and heir to the Black family to have you removed. Do you understand? Just nod if you do."

The woman nodded briskly, her whole head shaking with barely controlled anger.

"Good, now behave yourself or we'll use you to light a fire."

"Blimey, Harry! That shut her up and no mistake!" Ron crowed as they all filed into the kitchen.

"As I'm now officially Head of the Black family, I have the right to give her orders," he shrugged. "Hopefully, she'll have got the message."

"But why didn't Sirius just tell her to shut up?" Ginny asked with a frown.

"Perhaps he didn't know he could," Harry speculated. In truth, he felt it had more to do with intent than anything. As with Kreacher, Walburga had recognised him as being magically more powerful and a worthy Head of House. Sirius, despite his undoubted talent, had simply not been interested in holding that position.

"Whatever the reason was, I for one am very glad she won't be making all that noise," Mrs Weasley said happily. "Now, I suggest we have a spot of lunch before we start making plans as to what rooms we'll redecorate."

"Excellent," Ron exclaimed.

"The human dustbin strikes again," Ginny snorted.

"Hey, it's been a long time since breakfast. It's no wonder I'm hungry," he complained.

"What, despite eating five Chocolate Frogs on the train?" Harry asked innocently.

"And a couple of Pumpkin Pasties. Oh, and eating half of Hermione's Cauldron Cake," Ginny added.

"And a fair share of Neville's Liquorice Comfits," Harry noted.

"Oh, stop it, you two. Ron's a growing lad. He needs to eat a lot," Mrs Weasley defended her son.

"Yeah, the only problem is that when he stops growing up, he'll probably start growing out," Ginny smirked.

"Do you mind? There's not an ounce of fat on me," Ron said indignantly.

"Yet," Harry chortled.

"Mum, can you tell these two they have to split up? They've been ganging up on me ever since they got together," Ron appealed to his mother.

"Oh, I'm sure they'd do that even if they weren't together," Molly smiled. "Now, what does everyone fancy for lunch?"

Grumbling, Ron sat at the table and sulked. It didn't stop him eating a full plate of sandwiches by himself, however.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Later that day, Harry, Ginny and Ron were making their way upstairs, primarily so they could decide what work they wanted to do to their assigned bedrooms. The three of them had been in equal measures amused and irritated that Mrs Weasley had insisted that Harry and Ron share a room, while Ginny would share with Hermione when she arrived later in the holidays.

"Blimey, it's not like that there aren't enough rooms," Ron gripped.

"Hey, it's my house and I don't even get a say in it," Harry pointed out.

"Never mind, I'm sure we can work something out," Ginny insisted.

"So I suppose Harry will be sneaking out of our room on a regular basis then?" Ron said with a slight note of disapproval.

"What, you don't want me to be gone when Hermione sneaks into ours?" Harry asked with amusement. "When's she due to get here, anyway?"

"Not until after Boxing Day," Ron replied sadly. "To tell you the truth, I'm a bit worried about her at the moment."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a quick glance.

"Actually, mate, Ginny and I were saying the same thing just the other day. She's been a bit off since the Hogsmeade attack, hasn't she?" Harry said.

"Yeah, she… well, that is, we're both struggling a bit after that, but it's hit Hermione the hardest. I think it's finally dawned on her exactly what will happen to her if she's ever captured by the Death Eaters. A Muggleborn like her… it's not going to be pretty, is it? She told me last month that she'll never be taken alive by them, and as awful as it sounds, I think death would be preferable."

"Ron, what exactly did you and Hermione see when you went upstairs in that house in Hogsmeade?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

"I… nah, I can't tell you. I don't even want to think about it. That poor girl… no, I'm sorry," Ron said, coming to a complete halt on the stairway. He was pale as a sheet.

"It's alright, mate, you don't have to tell us, but I do think it would be a good idea if you talked to someone. You and Hermione both. I can only imagine what you two saw in that room, but I've had to deal with enough crap in my life to know that bottling it up will only lead to problems later. Hell, Hermione's told me that enough times in the past," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah, maybe you should talk to Madam Pomfrey when you get back to school," Ginny suggested.

"Nah, I'm alright," Ron insisted. "For me, it's actually been kind of motivating. I know this isn't a game anymore and that terrible things could happen to me or my loved ones at any time, but that's just made me more determined. I want to get good. I wanna be the best bloody wizard I can be, if only so I can send those filthy bastard Death Eaters straight to hell! But Hermione… she's always been the sensitive one. She always tries to find the good in people, you know? For her to discover there are people in the world that would do that to another human being… it's shocked her to the core. If I previously thought it was a game, then Hermione thought it was some story book adventure. Now she knows it's not. Everything that's happening is dangerous and frightening, and we could all die horribly at any moment."

"That's not going to happen," Harry said firmly. "I won't let it. I swear that no Death Eater will ever lay a finger on Hermione, or Ginny, or anyone I love. If I have to kill every last one of them, I will do it."

"And I'll be standing right by your side as you do, helping," Ginny said fiercely, "but bearing this all in mind, will Hermione be alright with her parents? I mean, I doubt she's told them exactly what's being going on lately."

"That's what I'm worried about. I'm going to send her a letter tonight to check she's okay, but I'm not sure she'd tell me if she wasn't. Sometimes… sometimes I'm holding her and she just starts crying, completely without warning. It just all gets too much for her, I think. It's generally alright if I'm there, but what will happen to her when she's at her parents' house, and she can't even tell them what's wrong?"

"Hermione's strong. Stronger than even she realises sometimes. I'm sure she'll be alright until after Christmas," Harry insisted. "I do think we all need to sit down and have a talk about how this is all affecting us, though."

"Yeah, probably," Ron agreed reluctantly.

"Ron, I know I take the piss out of you all the time, but I do love you, you know that, don't you? You can talk to me anytime," Ginny said, rubbing her brother's arm affectionately.

"Yeah, I know, sis," he smiled. "Besides, taking the piss out of each other is the Weasley way. It would just seem weird if we were nice to each other all the time."

"Yes, it would," she agreed, giving him a quick hug.

"It does make me think that we need to step up the fight against Voldemort, though," Harry pondered. "The longer this goes on, the more people will get hurt. I think it's time I had another chat with Scrimgeour and find out how the more aggressive tactics are working out."

"We still have to find the locket Horcrux before we can think about taking old Snakeface on directly," Ginny pointed out, "not to mention figuring out a way to take out Nagini at the same time."

"Yeah, and I admit I haven't a clue as to where to start looking for the locket," Harry admitted. He'd previously told his friends all about the Horcruxes, being determined to keep as little information back from them as possible. He had, however, implied that he was just passing on information he had learnt from Dumbledore. He still felt that learning that a small piece of Tom Riddle's soul was mixed in with his would be a step too far even for his loyal comrades.

"Dumbledore's quite certain Voldemort didn't move it himself? Perhaps he got wind that his hiding place had been discovered? " Ron asked.

"Pretty sure, I mean, Voldemort hadn't moved any of the other Horcruxes, so why would he just move that one? No, that doesn't make any sense. It has to be someone else who took it, someone with a grudge against him."

"Yeah, but who could that be? You said yourself, Voldemort wouldn't have exactly made it common knowledge that he'd made those things, would he?" Ron pointed out.

Harry just shrugged in frustration, and they continue up to the boys' bedroom in silence. All the while, Harry desperately tried to think who could have moved the Horcrux, and how he might discover the thief's identity.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Two things happened the next morning to alter Harry's plans.

The first thing was the headlines in that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet, which reported a daring raid by Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement staff on the house of Arthur Goyle, a pardoned Death Eater who the Ministry suspected of still harbouring sympathy for the Dark Lord. The raid had uncovered a group of Death Eaters using the establishment as a base, and had resulted in five Death Eaters being killed, including Goyle. Also killed was his son, Gregory Goyle, Harry's troublesome classmate who had apparently flown into an insane rage when he saw his father cut down and had attacked the Aurors. Several other people had been arrested, including Mrs Goyle who was 'helping the Ministry in their enquiries'.

The second unexpected event was the arrival of Hermione Granger at Grimmauld Place. She turned up on the doorstep clutching a suitcase and looking extremely unhappy. She was ushered into the warmth of the kitchen where Mrs Weasley plied her with hot, sweet tea and toasted crumpets.

While she sat and sipped her tea, her friends gathered around her to question her as to her early arrival.

"I've just been fighting with my parents, constantly, ever since I got home," she revealed. "They suspected something was wrong and when I explained that I couldn't tell them about it, they just got angry. I mean, even if I was allowed to, how do I begin to explain Voldemort and everything that's been going on to them? When they threatened to pull me out of Hogwarts we had a blazing row and I stormed out. Let's see them try to get me out of school, now!"

"Oh, you poor thing," Mrs Weasley said sympathetically. "It must be very difficult for all of you. I mean, I can't begin to understand what being magical must appear like to a Muggle! I'm sure they're just worried about you, dear."

"I'm sure your right, Mrs Weasley, but that doesn't make things any easier, does it? If I told them about half the things that I've experienced since I became a witch they would have locked me in a room and never let me out again. It's just… it's like they're becoming strangers to me. My own parents! I feel like I've grown up while I've been at Hogwarts and they don't seem to understand that. I just can't talk to them anymore, either. We either don't seem to speak the same language anymore, or they deliberately misinterpret everything I say."

"Once Voldemort is dealt with everything will become simpler, I'm sure," Harry assured her.

"Yeah, you'll be able to be more open with them, maybe even invite them here or to the Burrow to visit," Ron added encouragingly.

"Perhaps," Hermione said unconvincingly.

"Never mind, dear. You're with friends here," Mrs Weasley said smiling. "Luckily, a bed is already made up for you. You'll be sharing with Ginny again so you'll have a bit of company."

For a brief second, Harry saw something approaching panic in Hermione's eyes.

"Why don't we give you a hand settling in?" he said quickly.

"Yeah, I'll carry your bag upstairs," Ron added, grabbing her suitcase.

"I'll help you unpack," Ginny promised, taking her friend by the arm and firmly guiding her out of the room.

They managed to get to the girls' bedroom before Hermione broke down.

"Oh, I'm so glad to be here!" she wept. "I've never felt like such a stranger in my own home."

"It's alright, luv," Ron said soothingly as he took her in his arms.

"No, it really isn't," she sobbed. "I feel like I've lost my parents completely. They still see me as some naïve little schoolgirl, just like I was before I went to Hogwarts. They don't understand the power I wield, or the dangers I face. Even if they did, their only response would be to pull me out of Hogwarts. Like that would make me safe!"

"That's the problem with the Statute of Secrecy. Your average Muggle just wouldn't be able to get their head round what we're capable of," Harry noted.

"That's so true," Hermione agreed sadly, wiping her eyes. "Of course, I can't actually show them what I can do with magic, and when I try to explain they think I'm exaggerating."

"So, you're with us now until school starts again?" Ginny asked.

"Yes, I can't go back home right now. My father said some very hurtful things to me, and my mother wasn't a lot better. I think they believe that I'm turning into some Satan worshiping occultist straight out of a horror film. All I was trying to do was explain some of the ritualism aspects of magic, not implying we perform human sacrifices before indulging in a mass orgy!"

"Not on weekdays, anyway," Ginny noted.

Hermione laughed.

"Is your mum going to make us share a bedroom, then?" she asked. "I admit, I've not been sleeping well and having Ron around is… comforting."

"Don't worry, I think we can arrange a little exchange scheme between us," Ginny said with a wink.

"Yeah, in fact, hang on a tick," Harry said before hurrying out of the room. He returned a few moments later with his Invisibility Cloak which he pressed into Hermione's hands. "This should help you move about at night without Molly noticing. Ginny and I have got pretty proficient at Disillusionment Charms, so we'll manage alright, anyway."

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione said, brightening up considerably. "So, who's moving to who's room, tonight?"

"Oh, as the Weasleys are guests in my house, I think it's only fair if you and I swap tonight, Hermione," Harry grinned.

"Sounds good to me," Hermione agreed, smiling bright for the first time since she arrived.


	15. Chapter 15 – Hadraniel

**Chapter 15 – Hadraniel**

Rather a lot happens in this chapter and we start to see that it's not only Harry that has some darkness in his soul, as the war starts to harden the hearts of his friends.

Florean's mysterious friend hasn't been mentioned for a while, so it's only right that he makes a further appearance here, and this time we learn his name. No doubt some of you will be looking up 'Hadraniel' on Wikipedia, but if you do remember what I said about this story being influenced by Gnosticism in the Author's Notes back in chapter 1. This is not the angel of the Old Testament who is apparently 2.1 million miles tall, I would point out. I'm pretty sure Harry and his friends would have noticed something like that.

Mega huge thanks to Arnel, particularly for enlightening me about the plural for 'Patronus'.

* * *

Harry let out a contented sigh as Ginny snuggled up closer to his chest. He was currently in what Mrs Weasley had erroneously called the girls' bedroom, even though Hermione had yet to spend a night here since she arrived three days previously. Still, Harry wasn't about to draw the Weasley matriarch's attention to her mistake.

"How do you think Hermione's doing?" Harry asked his girlfriend.

"A lot better now she's here, I think," Ginny replied sleepily. "My brother might be a dung-brained idiot, but he knows how to make her happy."

"It must be hard becoming so estranged from your parents like that," he speculated. "I mean, it's not like she's just become a bit distant from them, it sounds like they don't actually trust her, at all. Becoming a witch has changed her in so many ways, I expect, and they don't seem to be able to cope with it."

"I think you're right, not that I really understand what she's going through. I just can't imagine not being able to talk with my parents," Ginny said. "Hermione's angry, though. She feels like her life has been ripped apart and it's all down to this stupid war. I pity any Death Eaters who cross her path anytime soon."

"Should we be worried about her? I mean, she's generally a warm-hearted person. I'm not sure I like seeing this ruthless side to her."

"I'm not sure you have a choice," Ginny shrugged. "I mean, with everything that been going on, it was bound to change her a bit. Hermione isn't stupid, and she knows what will happen to her if she ever falls into the hands of the Death Eaters alive. She knows its kill or be killed now, and she has no doubt that she's on the right side in this conflict."

"Has she talked about Hogsmeade, at all?" he asked.

"Not really and, to be quite truthful, I'm not sure I want to know exactly what she and Ron saw in that upstairs room. Has Ron said anything to you?"

"Only little hints now and then. He's angry, too. Have you notice how much exercise he's been doing lately? Not to mention all the wand-work he's been practising. I don't know what he would have done if he'd been stuck at the Burrow over the holidays and not allowed to do magic. Thank goodness for the Fidelius Charm on this place."

"It's funny, neither of them seemed that upset after the battle, did they? I guess it's because they were so busy all the time they didn't have time to think about it. Now the holidays have arrived and they have some downtime…"

"…it's all come crashing down on them," Harry finished. "I admit, I keep thinking about what would have happened to Katie if we hadn't shown up. The Death Eaters seem to use rape as an actual weapon against us."

"They want to spread terror, and what better way is there of doing that? They rape, torture and maim, before killing indiscriminately. They want every wizard or witch in Britain to cower before them, and they know exactly how to make that happen," Ginny noted bitterly.

"Well, I refuse to let that happen," Harry said firmly. "If it means I have to kill every marked Death Eater alive, I swear I will end their reign of fear."

"What about those that took the mark out of fear, like Draco?" Ginny asked, sounding more curious than anything.

"He has a choice," Harry stated flatly. "If he keeps his head down and does nothing to hurt anyone, then I won't touch him."

"And if he doesn't? Astoria won't be happy if you hurt him," Ginny pointed out.

"If he doesn't, then he'll have to pay the price, just like anyone else. Astoria will just have to find herself a new little rich boy to trap."

With a nod of agreement, Ginny laid her head back on his chest. Neither of them voiced the shared opinion that Draco would probably end up hurting someone sooner or later, if only to save his own scrawny little neck.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Christmas Eve arrived with a measure of calm mercifully descending on Grimmauld Place. Now she was back amongst her friends, Hermione seemed a lot happier, even if she did occasionally mutter about her 'stupid parents' when she thought no one was in earshot.

Currently, the four of them were in the kitchen helping Mrs Weasley prepare for dinner the next day. As was her wont when worried or upset, Molly liked to cook and tomorrow's meal was looking like it was going to be a veritable feast. Harry could only smile as he watched her dart around the kitchen, checking on her baking mince pies one moment, mixing stuffing the next, but never staying in one place for more than a moment.

He and Ginny were on potato duty, peeling and washing the spuds ready for roasting the next day. Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, had been relegated to napkin folding on account of their poor cookery skills. Harry did wonder how the pair would survive if they ended up married. Presumably they would eat out a lot…

"Ow!" Ginny suddenly exclaimed and dropped her knife in the sink.

At first, Harry assumed that she'd cut herself, but when something hot started burning into his upper thigh he realised he was mistaken. Quickly, he put aside his own knife and dug into his pocket to retrieve his D.A. coin. Although they no longer issued them to the new Defence Club members, the coins were just too useful to discard totally. Harry and his friends had therefore kept theirs and used them to communicate between the six of them using a code they had devised.

"It's Luna! Her home's being attacked," Ginny exclaimed as she stared at her own coin in horror.

"We have to help her!" Hermione cried, leaping to her feet.

"Now, just wait a second," Mrs Weasley objected, but she was too late. The four of them were already running out of the kitchen towards the front door.

"Harry, Side-Along with me," Ginny cried as soon as they reached the doorstep. "I know exactly where Luna's house is and I know where to take us. Ron, you take Hermione and aim for the path that leads up to the house."

"Got it," Ron announced grimly and reached out a hand to his girlfriend.

Harry felt Ginny grab his arm and a second later he was roughly pulled from outside the house and deposited in a heap face-down in some grass. A moment later, a loud pop indicated that Ron and Hermione had also arrived, admittedly in a rather more sedate manner. Clearly, Ginny was in something of a panic for her friend.

"We've got visitors!" a rough voice cried from somewhere nearby and Harry just managed to free his wand arm in time to get a shield in place before a flash of purple light exploded in front of him. Taking a second to get his bearings, he saw he was kneeling on a patch of grass growing in front of a strange, cylindrical shaped house that was nearly black in colour. Three Death Eaters stood outside the building, their silver masks glinting in the weak December sun. All three of them had their wands drawn and were hurling lethal-looking spells at Harry and his friends.

Harry sprinted forward a few steps before flinging himself down. A natural fold in the ground offered some cover and he was able to start returning fire. His first spell, which was nothing more than a blue bolt of pure energy smashed into the left-hand Death Eater and practically blew him to pieces. Ginny hit the ground next to him a moment later, and her ball of glowing, red fire obliterated the next black-robed figure.

"Shit!" the remaining Death Eater yelled and turned to run, but a powerful Severing Charm from Hermione cut him cruelly down. Silence reigned for a moment, and they were just about to stand and head towards the house when a coarse voice called out to them.

"Drop the wands, or little blondie here gets it!"

Harry looked in horror to see another Death Eater edge around the side of the house, with his arm firmly clamped around Luna's chest and his wand pointed straight at her head.

"I'm sorry, Harry, they were through the wards before we even knew they were there," Luna wailed in distress.

"You hurt one hair on her head and I swear there won't be enough left of you to put in a matchbox," Harry snarled, standing with his wand pointing at the Death Eater's face.

"Yeah, yeah. Save your breath, Potter, because I'm holding all the cards here," the Death Eater spat. "Now, drop the wands or I start hurting this pretty little thing here."

Harry looked at his friends, who all stared back at him grimly. Desperately, he tried to think of a way out of the situation. Perhaps if they did drop their wands he might have the opportunity to take out the Death Eater using wandless magic? It would be risky, however. He wasn't terribly proficient at casting spells without his wand and if this bastard in black was any good, he would probably find himself at a serious disadvantage. Still, what other choice did he have?

He was about to tell the others to drop their wands when a loud pop sounded from somewhere nearby.

" _Petrificus Totalus!"_ screamed Neville, his wand pointed directly at the Death Eater's back.

The robed man's limbs snapped together and he gracefully toppled to the grass. As soon as she was released, Luna instantly sprinted back towards the house and vanished inside. Quickly, the five of them followed her.

Harry entered what appeared to be the kitchen in time to see a pair of legs vanishing up a spiral flight of stairs. He hurried after them, and immediately entered a small living room. Luna was kneeling on the floor cradling a white-haired man that bore a striking resemblance to her. This, Harry realised, must be Xenophilius Lovegood, Luna's father, and he looked in a bad way.

"Oh, good Godric!" Ginny exclaimed and pushed Harry out of the way so she could get to Luna and her father. The man's shirt was soaked with suspicious rust-coloured patches and his face was badly swollen. His left arm was shaking badly, suggesting he'd been placed under the Cruciatus Curse for some time.

"Ron? Ginny? Where are you all?" a panicky voice called from outside.

"Mum!" Ron announced. "She'll be able to help!"

Ron darted out of the room and re-emerged a few moments later with Mrs Weasley in tow. She took one look at the fallen man and let out a cry of horror.

"Xeno, what have they done to you?" she said in horror, practically pushing her daughter out of the way so she could tend to Luna's father.

"Hello, Molly," Xenophilius whispered weakly. "You rescued my Luna. Thank you."

"It wasn't me," Molly said irritably as she waved her wand over the man's battered body several times. Her expression became more troubled as she did so. "I'm going to have to take him straight to St Mungo's or we'll lose him. You lot are to head straight back to Grimmauld Place, do you hear? That means you, too, Luna."

"But…" the blonde girl pleaded.

"Immediately!" Molly snapped and a second later, she was gone, having Apparated Mr Lovegood and herself away. Luna immediately burst into tears.

"That was lucky you arrived right behind the Death Eater like that," Harry said to Neville as Ginny hugged the crying girl tightly.

"Err, not exactly. I've only been to this house once before, and when I attempted to Apparate here I missed completely and ended up on a nearby hill. From there I could see what was going on, however, and it was easy to just pop up behind the bastard."

"Speaking of that bastard, he's still outside," Hermione pointed out in a hard voice.

Luna's head came up instantly. "He's mine!" she yelled. "It was him who tortured Daddy!"

Resolutely, the group of them marched out of the house. The Death Eater was still lying where they'd left him.

"Let's see who we're dealing with here, shall we?" Harry said, reaching down to remove the man's mask.

"Gibbon," Hermione said flatly as they stared at the face of the man. By this point, they were all fairly familiar with all the declared Death Eaters, and the man's sharp features were easily recognisable from the wanted posters.

"Can I borrow a wand, please?" Luna said in a cold voice. Without hesitation, both Neville and Hermione offered theirs.

"I'm not doing this as an act of revenge," Luna said as she walked towards the incarcerated man, Hermione's wand clutched firmly in her hand. "It's simply that anyone who can do the things that you did to my father is too dangerous and twisted to be allowed to live. You're a very sick man, and there's no cure, I'm afraid. So, I have no choice other than to this."

Luna pointed the wand at the man's head. Harry saw the fear in Gibbon's eyes, before the bright flash of purple light struck him and blew off half his face. He was dead instantly.

"Thank you, Hermione. Your wand is rather nice, isn't it? I suppose I'll have to get a new one as they snapped mine," Luna said in a dead voice.

Neville was there in an instant, and pulled the small girl into his arms. She buried her face into his shoulder and began to cry.

The six of them stood there, under the cold, grey skies, waiting until Luna could gain control of herself. The blood of the four fallen Death Eaters soaked into the ground nearby.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"He's going to be alright."

These were the first words out of Luna's mouth as she entered the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Mr Weasley entered behind her, having escorted her to St Mungo's earlier that morning.

"Oh, I am glad, my dear," Mrs Weasley said, and hurried over to hug the small girl.

"Thank you for getting him to hospital so quickly, Mrs Weasley," Luna said warmly, "and thank you all for coming to rescue us. I dread to think what would have happened if you hadn't arrived so quickly."

"You would have done the same for any of us," Hermione pointed out.

"I know, but it's just so lovely to know I have such good friends who would risk themselves for me."

"We would, any time," Ginny added, coming over and also hugging her friend.

"Now, Christmas Dinner is almost ready, and I insist that you join us," Mrs Weasley said firmly.

"We'll probably need a hand eating all this food, anyway," Harry said with a grin.

"You've seem to have forgotten just how much the Weasley clan can put away in one sitting," George pointed out. He and Fred had arrived earlier, and they had both been shocked to learn of the events of the previous day. The Lovegoods had been their neighbours since either of them could remember and to hear that they had been brutally attacked had clearly unsettled them both.

"Yes, well, there'll be plenty for everyone," Mrs Weasley insisted. "We'll start to dish up once Bill and Fleur arrive and… oh, was that the front door? That might be them, now."

It was indeed Bill and his ravishing fiancé, both clutching a large pile of presents in their arms.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" Bill called out cheerfully, before he noticed the small blonde girl standing rather forlornly next to Ginny. "Oh, hello, Luna. I didn't know you were joining us."

"I wasn't planning to," Luna admitted in a small voice.

Mr Weasley quickly pulled his son and fiancé to one side and explained what had happened. Fleur seemed particularly touched by the poor girl's plight, and, somehow, managed to find a Christmas present for her from the pile that they brought. Luna opened it to find a rather lovely silk scarf in bright yellow and orange colours which seemed strangely appropriate bearing in mind her normal taste in clothing. She immediately wrapped the scarf around her neck and seemed to cling to it like a lifeline.

Christmas dinner wasn't the normal raucous affair the Weasleys generally enjoyed. That's not to say it was unpleasant by any stretch of the imagination. The food was superb and the conversation friendly, if a touch subdued. Fred and George did their best to liven up proceedings by telling them all tales about the unpleasant fates suffered by various shoplifters who had tried to pilfer their stock and even Luna laughed a little at their stories.

Luna tried to make an effort, and actually managed to eat a respectable amount, but as the main course came to an end, her head began to nod. She'd confided that she'd had little sleep the previous night and was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Eventually, Molly slipped out of the room, only to return five minutes later with the news that she had made up an extra bed in the room Ginny and Hermione shared. Gratefully, Luna headed up the stairs, pausing only to wish everyone a merry Christmas.

"Blimey, poor little Luna," George said sympathetically as soon as she'd gone.

"Yeah, if the Lovegoods need any help in beefing up the protective magic around their home, I'm more than happy to help out," Bill added.

"Oui, me too," Fleur agreed quickly.

"I'll pass that onto Xeno when we visit him tomorrow," Arthur promised.

"Why were the Lovegoods targeted, anyway?" Fred asked. "I mean, it's not like writing _The Quibbler_ would make them much of a threat to You-Know-Who, is it?"

"You're behind the times," Ginny disagreed. "Harry has discovered a lot about Voldemort's history, and Luna passed it all onto her father. He's been printing stories about Voldemort's past for months now, not to mention a lot of stuff about the previous Minister's behaviour and how a lot of Death Eaters escaped prosecution by throwing some hefty bribes about. Mr Lovegood has become a real thorn in the Dark Lord's side."

"This is hardly conversation suitable for Christmas Day, is it?" Arthur pointed out disapprovingly.

"That doesn't mean it shouldn't happen, does it?" George disagreed. "I'm with Bill; anything Fred and I can do to boost the defences around the Lovegood house we'll do, free of charge."

"I'll cover any costs," Harry said quickly.

"Nah, not this time," Fred said shaking his head. "We're still making a tidy profit, especially from all the work the Ministry is throwing our way, and we can easily afford to give away a few traps and warning devices if it keeps Luna and her dad safe."

"Boys, I really don't say this enough, but I'm proud of you. Really proud," Arthur announced.

"Ah, we're not really doing anything," George commented, before pointing at Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione. "This lot are the real heroes. If they hadn't reacted so fast, Xeno would probably be dead and Luna a prisoner of the Death Eaters, and I don't even want to think what that might entail."

"That's very true, son, although it wrenches my heart that children have to fight these days. Ron and Ginny should be worrying about exams and Quiditch, not fighting for the lives of their friends. I sometimes wonder where it all went wrong," Arthur said sadly.

"I've heard it said that evil spreads whenever good people sit back and do nothing," Harry said firmly. "Too many people sat back and let Voldemort build up a powerbase, and I'm afraid that includes Professor Dumbledore. By himself, Voldemort wouldn't be able to achieve much of anything. Oh, he'd still be an incredibly powerful wizard and a threat to everyone around him, but he would never have been such a danger to the whole of society without his followers. He was allowed to spread his lies and propaganda unchecked, all the time gathering money and support. Let's face it, all the blood purists would never have followed him if they knew he was a half-blood, would they? Besides, most of his followers are just out for what they can get. They serve Voldemort, hoping he'll reward them with money and positions of power. If the Death Eaters had been targeted more aggressively in the beginning, I bet half of them would have thought twice about the whole thing."

"I have to agree, Harry. I really don't see half the scum that make up the Death Eaters being in it for philosophical or political reasons. They just want to rape and steal, and following Voldemort allows them to do just that," Hermione reasoned bitterly.

"Maybe it is my generation's fault," Arthur mused. "If we'd done more at the beginning, perhaps we wouldn't be in the mess we are in now."

"I hardly think it's your fault, Mr Weasley," Harry disagreed. "You and Molly were one of the few who stood up and fought. It's all the others, including the Ministry, who stood back and let it all happen."

"Yeah, Dad, just think what would have happened if the Ministry had slapped down the Death Eaters when they first got started? Dumbledore could have stopped Riddle before he got started, too. It's all very well to talk about giving people a chance, but Tom was evil from day one. The Headmaster must have realised it. I know it's not exactly his job to stop every nutcase and psychopath that he comes across, but he must have seen his potential and known what Riddle could become," Ginny argued.

"I think you're being a bit unfair, Ginny. Albus is just a man, and he can't be expected to do everything," Arthur frowned.

"And yet that's exactly what he's tried to do of late," Harry pointed out. "He's taken on too much and refused to share what he knows. I know I've managed to curb him of that habit, a bit, but the fact remains that if I hadn't insisted he wouldn't have told me anything. People have a right to know why they are risking their lives. Tell me, Mr Weasley, did Dumbledore ever tell you what you were guarding at the Department of Mysteries?"

"No, and I didn't want to know, either. If I'd been captured by the Death Eaters there was no way I could reveal what I didn't know, is there?"

"That's true, I guess, but like you said, Dumbledore is just a man and he can make mistakes. If he doesn't tell anyone what he's planning, how can they know if he's got it right, or not?" Harry demanded.

"Sometimes, it just all comes down to trust, Harry," Arthur said.

Harry nodded. All too often it came down to just that.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Later that evening, Harry and his friends were sitting in the boys' bedroom. Their visitors had all gone home, and Luna was still fast asleep in the girls' room, so they had come in here so as not to disturb her.

"Poor Luna, she looked about done in," Ginny said sadly. "She's sleeping like a baby now."

"She's had a rough couple of days," Hermione noted. "I doubt she slept much last night."

"We're going to have to be careful. I expect that Voldemort targeted the Lovegoods because of those articles in _The Quibbler_ , but it might just be because Luna is my friend. I've been fairly protective of her at Hogwarts, and enough of those Slytherin gits have Death Eater parents to tell tales to," Harry growled.

"Will your parents be okay?" Ron asked Hermione with concern.

"The Death Eaters haven't targeted large Muggle settlements as of yet. Winchester is a bit big for them to attack openly," Hermione said, although she did look worried.

"The longer this goes on, the more innocents will end up getting hurt," Harry said bitterly. "We need to end this… and fast!"

"Without the locket Horcrux…" Hermione began.

"I know!" Harry snapped at her, before they lapsed into silence.

With a deep frown on his face, Harry desperately cast about Tom's memories for any clue as to who could have taken the locket. The list of people who even knew of their existence was tiny, and even fewer would have any reason to tamper with one of them. In fact, the only Death Eater who had ever openly defied him was…

"Kreacher! Get in here, now!" Harry bellowed suddenly, causing his friend to all jump.

The ugly little elf appeared a moment later and regarded Harry with a sour expression.

"Master calls?" he croaked.

"Tell me everything you know about Regulus Black just before he died," Harry ordered.

The elf looked at him in shock, and his expression twisted with effort as he tried to defy his new master. Unfortunately for Kreacher, he was compelled.

"Master Regulus was a brave, brave man. He saved Kreacher when the Dark Lord wanted to kill him," Kreacher mumbled.

"How did he die?" Harry demanded, ignoring the confused looks on the faces of his friends.

"He… he was killed by Inferi," Kreacher said sadly.

Instantly, a light went on in Harry's head.

"Where did these Inferi kill him, Kreacher? Was it in a cave?"

The elf looked up in shock at Harry. "How did nasty master know? How does he know of the cave?" he demanded, looking a little wild-eyed.

"Never mind that. Did Regulus take something from that cave, Kreacher? Did he take a locket?" Harry pressed.

"He… I… yes, yes, he did," the elf said against his will.

"Do you know where that locket is?" Harry asked, his excitement mounting.

"Yes," Kreacher said simply.

"Where is it?"

"I… I hid it in a cupboard downstairs," the elf admitted, tears flowing from his eyes.

"Why did you keep it? Kreacher, that thing is incredibly dangerous!"

"Kreacher knows that! Master told us to destroy it, but we never could! Elf magic couldn't harm it, nor could fire, or hammers. Kreacher even put it on a train track, but the train just ran over it and it was undamaged! Kreacher didn't know what to do apart from hide it!"

Harry walked over and laid a reassuring hand on the elf's head.

"Kreacher, I know exactly how to destroy it. In fact, I've already destroyed three similar objects myself already. Go and fetch the locket, and meet me by the Floo. We're doing to take a little trip to a place where we can get rid of the bloody thing once and for all."

"Where? Kreacher asked in amazement.

"Hogwarts, of course," Harry said, smiling benignly at him.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry stepped out of the Floo into the headmaster's office. It was as he feared; dark and uninhabited. A few moments later, Ginny also stepped out of the Floo, holding a nervous Kreacher by the hand.

"No Dumbledore," Harry announced. "I wonder if…"

A squawk interrupted him, and he turned to see Fawkes looking at him with his dark eyes.

"Fawkes, we need to speak to Dumbledore urgently! Can you find him for us?" Harry begged.

For a second, Fawkes seemed to look curiously at Kreacher, who was still clutching the locket as if his life depended on it. A moment later, the bird seemed to explode in a bright fireball and vanished.

"Do you think he'll…" began Ginny before a second bright flash cut her off.

A rather stunned-looking Albus Dumbledore stood blinking at them, clutching a small glass in his hand. He was wearing rather spectacular robes, even by his normal standard. Above him, Fawkes flew in a lazy circle, singing in what sounded like amusement.

"Harry? Ginny Weasley? What a very unexpected surprise. Is something wrong?" Dumbledore asked, slurring a little.

"Not wrong, exactly," Harry told him. "Kreacher, show the headmaster."

Slowly, Kreacher lifted the locket up so the old wizard could see it. It took him a few moments to recognise what he was looking at.

"Harry, my dear boy, is that what I think it is?" he gasped.

"It was at Grimmauld Place the whole time," Harry smiled. "It appears Sirius's brother regretted becoming a Death Eater and nicked it. Kreacher here has been trying to destroy it for years."

"Regulus? Dear me, I thought all these years that Voldemort killed him for failing in some task. I believe Sirius did as well. It does go to show, however, that redemption is not beyond even the darkest of souls."

"But not very often, though. So far, it's only Regulus and Snape that have defected from the Dark Lord's forces. That's not a very high percentage, sir," Harry pointed out.

"No, but it does give me a little hope," Dumbledore said happily. "Now, I assume that you want to deal with this dreadful object immediately? Let me open up the case so you can retrieve the Sword of Gryffindor."

He put down the small glass of amber liquid he was holding and searched in his drawer for a set of keys. After a number of attempts, Dumbledore managed to find the right key to unlock the display case, and rather shakily handed Harry the sword.

"Were you at a Christmas Party, Professor?" Ginny asked with a small smile.

"Merely a small get together of the staff who have remained at the school over the holidays," Dumbledore replied happily. "It has become rather a tradition for us all to take a few glasses of sherry around this time."

"I bet Trelawney loves that," Ginny smirked.

"Sadly, Sybill was unable to join us this year," Dumbledore noted loftily. "Christmas is her favourite celebration of the year, and she celebrated herself into unconsciousness several hours ago."

"Come on, sir," Harry laughed. "Let's get this done so you can head back to your party. Shall we use the Room of Requirement again?"

"That would be best, I think. Lead the way, dear boy, lead the way."

"Yeah, we better get on with this. We left Ron and Hermione running interference with my mum. She's bound to start asking where we are soon," Ginny explained.

The odd little procession made their way down the stairs and into the corridor. They hadn't gone very far when a loud pop sounded behind them and they turned to see a house-elf wearing what appeared to be four hats and several pairs of socks appear.

"Dobby!" Harry cried happily. "Merry Christmas! Did you get my present?"

"Dobby did get Harry Potter's present indeed," the little elf beamed. "I's wearing them under these other pair of socks so they's don't get dirty, sir!"

"Good thinking," Harry smiled.

Dobby grinned for a moment, before his smile faltered.

"Harry Potter, sir, you should be knowing that elf you have with you is trouble! He's a bad elf, sir, that never obeys his masters as he should. He's carrying something that gives off nasty bad magic, too."

"It's alright, Dobby," Harry assured him. "He's carrying the object for us to destroy."

"Hmm, Dobby will stay with you to watch this one," Dobby decided, pointing at a scowling Kreacher.

"Great," Harry whispered to Ginny, "we've got to destroy a horrifically dangerous Dark magic artefact with two mad elves in tow, and an old wizard who's three sheets to the wind."

Ginny just chuckled.

They soon reached the Room of Requirement and Harry created a large, empty space for them to work. He instructed Kreacher lay the locket on the ground, which the old elf did. He then surprised everyone by handing the Sword of Gryffindor to Kreacher.

"Regulus told you to destroy it," Harry told him. "Now's your chance. I'll command the locket to open and you stab it with the sword. Got that?"

"Harry, do you think that…" Dumbledore began.

"Kreacher will do it!" the elf declared eagerly.

"Okay, get ready… _open!"_

As soon as Harry spoke Parseltongue, the locket opened open and a sinister hissing sound filled the room. A split second later, Kreacher thrust the sword at the locket and the hissing was replaced by an agonised scream, followed by an abrupt silence.

"Well done, Kreacher, you did it," Harry said warmly.

"Master… dear master… it is done," the elf croaked feebly, falling to his knees and letting the sword slip from his grasp.

"Dobby, would you be so good as to return the sword back to the headmaster's office, please?" Harry asked pleasantly. "Kreacher, you can head back to Grimmauld Place now. Keep the locket as a memento, if you like."

The two elves popped out of sight, Dobby holding the sword carefully while Kreacher cradled the smashed locket lovingly.

"That was something of a risk, Harry," Dumbledore noted, sounding considerably more sober than he'd been just a few minutes before. "House-elves are admirable creatures, but the power of the locket could have overwhelmed Kreacher and he might have turned the sword on us."

"Nah, the defences the locket had don't work on house-elves. Voldemort never thought of them as a threat, so didn't bother to protect any of his Horcruxes against them. Bit stupid, really," Harry grinned.

"Err, Harry, how do you know that?" Ginny asked, looking at him curiously. "Come to think of it, how did you even know to question Kreacher about Sirius's brother?"

Harry turned to look at her. He had told all his friends that Dumbledore had supplied him with most of his information up to this point, but he'd just exposed that lie by correcting the headmaster. As far as they knew, Harry's scar had faded as a result of Voldemort's failed possession of him back at the Department of Mysteries, and that he had simply just become a little bit more focused about everything. But could he keep lying to Ginny? Didn't she deserve to know that he frequently delved into Tom Riddle's memories and that it had changed his outlook on life quite radically?

"Professor, can you excuse us? I think me and Ginny need to have a talk," he sighed.

"Perhaps that's wise. I think I'll head back to the party. You know where to find me if you need me, Harry," the old wizard replied before striding out of the room. Harry turned to Ginny who was looking at him almost fearfully.

"Ginny, I haven't been exactly honest with you…" he began.

"You still hear him, don't you?" Ginny accused him.

"No, I don't hear him, exactly, but I do get occasional flashes of his memories and every so often I find I know things that he did. It's all just information, though. It's barely affected me as a person; I'm still just me," Harry told her passionately.

"But you have changed so much," she objected. "You suddenly become so much more powerful and smart!"

"So did you," he retorted. "To be honest, Ginny, that's more to do with the insights all this extra information have given me than anything else. I started to realise that I needed to grow up and stop acting like a kid. I swear, it hasn't changed me that much. I'm still Harry."

"No, no you're not," Ginny said. "You're much more than that now. Harry, you have the power of a god!"

"Which is why I need you," he replied firmly. "I need you to keep me honest and good. Riddle was always alone, but I have you. Please, Ginny, I'm begging you, don't let this change how you see me. Please, tell me that you love me still."

Ginny turned and began to slowly walk away from him, hugging herself tightly. Harry watched her with mounting panic, fearing what she was about to say next. She stopped and turned to look at him, her face unreadable.

"I still hear him sometimes, you know," she said in a quivering voice.

"What, Riddle?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Yes, in my dreams mostly, but sometimes just when I'm walking about. I know it's not actually him, but it's like he cast this shadow on my soul. I hear him taunting me, and urging me to do bad things. Whenever Malfoy is around I hear Tom in the back of my head, telling me I should just swat the little bastard like a fly. Oh, Harry, how can I keep you honest and good if I can't even do that for myself?" she sobbed.

Harry leapt over and gathered her in his arms, pulling her tight. She was crying now, her body shaking as she sobbed.

"Then we'll look after each other," he told her, a tear falling from the corner of his eye. "We're the only people who can truly understand what it's like to have Tom Riddle inside our heads. I understand the darkness that nearly overwhelmed you, my love, just as you know the temptation I have to use that power and knowledge for my own ends. But we're not like Riddle; we know love, and that love will keep us honest. It will save us both."

"I love you," she cried, trembling in his arms. "Never leave me. Never let me fall."

"Only if you promise to do the same for me," he replied.

She pulled away slightly and nodded, before pulling him into a fierce kiss. They stayed like that for a long time, both too afraid to let each other go.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Diagon Alley looked grim and unwelcoming, Harry thought. It was the day before New Year's Eve, and the Weasley family had organised this little shopping trip partly to stock up on a few essentials before school restarted next week, but mostly just to escape Grimmauld Place for a few hours. While their minor bout of decoration might have brightened the house up a little, it was still a far from welcoming place.

"Oh, it's freezing!" Hermione complained, rubbing her arms vigorously. As the only one of the group of age, she'd liberally cast Warming Charms on them, but they didn't feel like they were having much of an effect.

"Yeah, careful of the cobblestones; they're really icy," Ron advised.

"Never mind, we'll be in the warm soon," Harry told them. "It's just a shame that Ginny and I can't be seen doing magic in public. Trust me, our Warming Charms would have us all toasty in seconds."

"We could do that, you know," Ginny said quietly. "It's not like you or me need to say an incantation out loud, or wave our wands about."

"No point, we'll be at Gringotts in a second," he pointed out. She nodded in agreement, and snuggled up against him a little tighter instead.

"Do you think…" Harry began before he suddenly stopped abruptly. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

"Harry, what's the matter? Have you… oh!" Hermione exclaimed, looking around in sudden agitation.

"Oh, bloody hell, is that what I think it is?" Ron moaned, pulling his wand from his jacket.

"Dementors! I'd know that feeling anywhere!" Harry spat. "The question is: where the hell are they?"

"THERE!" Ginny bellowed, pointing up the street. "Oh, no! Mum and Dad are still up there!"

Mr and Mrs Weasley had indeed lingered at the top end of the alley to make some purchases in the apothecary shop, sending them on so Harry could visit his vault in Gringotts. A twisting knot of fear began to build in Harry's stomach as swarms of the black-robed monsters began to appear from nowhere.

"This must be the group that deserted Azkaban!" Hermione said fearfully.

News of a mass breakout from the prison, and the desertion of its terrible guards, had been reported on Boxing Day. _The Daily Prophet_ had speculated that You-Know-Who had freed his incarcerated followers as a direct response to the raid on the Goyle household, although Harry knew that the prison raid had actually occurred much earlier. The Ministry had been determined to cover up the grim news for as long as it could.

"Okay, get ready to cast your Patronus Charms," Harry ordered, levelling his wand at the approaching creatures.

"Harry, what happens if we push the Dementors back and they spill out into Muggle London? It would be a massacre!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Oh, God, you're right," he agreed in a sick voice. "But what else can we do?"

"Perhaps if we combine our magic, we can unleash enough power to kill those things," Ginny suggested.

"I'm afraid that won't work, young lady," a calm voice said.

Harry spun to see a small, rotund man with thinning hair and dressed in a tweed suit. He smiled at Harry benignly.

"Why won't it work?" Harry demanded urgently. He could feel his fear mounting as the Dementors approached.

"You can't kill them, because they are not, in the strictest sense, actually here," the man explained. "Dementors are creatures from another dimension; demons, if you will, who are drawn through time and space by the desire for fresh, exquisite human souls. They exist in two dimensions simultaneously, and you see before you only part of them. You cannot kill them, because their actual bodies are in the other dimension."

"Then how do we bloody get rid of them?" Harry nearly shouted in panic.

"Well, and this is just speculation, I should imagine that if two extremely powerful magicians, such as you and this beautiful young witch here, cast a sufficiently potent Banishing Charm at them, it might return them from whence they came. It's a possibility, anyway," the man said with a charming smiled.

"A Banishing Charm?" Ginny repeated in disbelief.

"It's worth a go," Harry said desperately. "Here, Ginny, take my hand and we'll cast together on three. Ready? One… two… three! _Depulso!_ "

Forcing as much power into the charm as he dared, Harry watched as the bolt of white light shot towards the nearest Dementor, who appeared untroubled by the approaching spell. The Banishing Charm hit the creature full on and for a second it appeared to have no effect. Then, with an inhuman scream that grated on Harry's ears, the Dementor started spinning rapidly before vanishing, just like water down a plughole.

The other Dementors stopped in their tracks and hovered uncertainly.

"It worked!" Hermione cried. "Quick, cast it again!"

With only the quickest of shared glances, Harry and Ginny again cast the spell, this time aiming at different targets. They were delighted when two more of the monsters spiralled out of sight, screaming as they went.

"Use your Patronuses to stop them escaping," Harry yelled at his two friends.

Neither Hermione nor Ron hesitated, and a moment later a ghostly dog and otter charged towards the Dementors. Rather than heading directly at them, however, the charms skirted either side of the alley, trying to get behind them and cut off their escape. Unfortunately, the panicking Dementors were scattering in all directions and the two Patronus's weren't enough to box the creatures in. Harry cast as quickly as he could, concentrating on the Dementors that appeared to be trying to fly over the shops and out towards London, but there were just too many of them.

Then, without warning, the remaining Dementors vanished as one. For a second, Harry looked around him in confusion.

"Ah, a linked Portkey, I expect."

Harry and his friends turned to see the small man still standing there, seemingly without a care in the world.

"A Portkey?" Hermione repeated.

"Yes, young lady. I expect whoever was controlling these foul beasts used such a devise to transport them here in the first place. After all, herding a group of fifty or sixty Dementors across London would attract some attention, I believe. No, whoever it was, and I suspect it was a follower of the insidious fellow Voldemort, decided it was time to retreat. I should imagine it was quite a shock to that person to see the previously invincible Dementors plucked out of existence like that. Well done, I say, that was extremely impressive work!"

"We wouldn't have even thought to try a Banishing Charm unless you had suggested it," Harry told him wearily. Only now, with the danger gone, did he begin to realise just how drained he felt.

"I'm sure you would have figured it out eventually," the man smiled before gesturing at Hermione, "or at least, this frightfully clever young witch here would have, anyway."

"Who are you?" Ginny asked, sounding slightly awed.

The man winked at her. "My friends call me Hadraniel, and I'd be honoured if I may include you in that group."

"Well, thank you very much, Hadraniel. You certainly saved our skins, and loads of other people's too, I shouldn't wonder," Harry told him.

"Ah, you're very kind to say so," the man nodded before glancing at his watch. "Oh, my! Look at the time. I really must be going. Delightful to meet you finally, Mr Potter, and, of course, all your wonderful friends. I have no doubt we'll see each other again before long."

And with that, the little man vanished with a small pop. Harry blinked, rather taken aback by the strange person.

"Who on earth was that, and how did he know so much about Dementors?" Hermione demanded.

"I've no idea," Harry replied lamely.

"Harry, did you see his magical aura?" Ginny asked.

"Not really, I was a bit busy, after all. I got the impression the bloke was pretty powerful, though. Why, what did you see?" Harry said.

"His aura was… beautiful. He looked just like an angel," she virtually whispered.

Harry and his friends stared at Ginny in disbelief.


	16. Chapter 16 - Never Ending Winter

**Chapter 16 – Never Ending Winter**

Oh dear, I'm not moving the body count on much with this chapter, I'm afraid. Just the solitary one. Still, it very nearly counts as two. Never mind, the next few chapters will change all that.

Huge thanks to Arnel for wading through her post-snow apocalypse backlog.

* * *

"…and he referred to himself just as Hadraniel? He gave no other name than that?" Dumbledore enquired.

"No, just that. He seemed a friendly sort," Harry offered.

Dumbledore frowned and paused to dunk a ginger nut into his tea. He sighed as he took a mouthful of his soggy biscuit.

"Whoever he was, he seems to have a great deal of knowledge about Dementors, although how he came about such information is a mystery to me," the old wizard noted.

"Where do the Dementors come from?" Ginny asked. The three of them were gathered around the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, discussing the dramatic events that occurred at Diagon Alley the previous day. The papers were already hailing Harry and his friends as heroes and speculating on how he'd been able to destroy the soul-sucking monsters, a feat previously thought impossible.

"No one really knows where they came from," Dumbledore explained. "When the Ministry first investigated the island of Azkaban in the late 1600's, they found the first established colony. Previously, the island had been home to a vile wizard by the name of Ekrizdis who was a very Dark and twisted fellow, indeed. It was always assumed that he created the Dementors by means of some hideous and twisted experiment, but as he died before anyone even knew the creatures existed that has never been confirmed. It is true, however, that the island was a vile place, where Muggle sailors were captured and tortured in the most despicable of ways. Ekrizdis's crimes left traces within the very rocks of Azkaban, so it is possible that the misery and despair the place generated attracted the Dementors, assuming they are multi-dimensional as our friend Hadraniel suggests."

"But the Dementors we got rid of can just come back, though, can't they?" Harry asked worriedly. "I mean, all Ginny and I did was Banish them. They can come back the way they arrived originally, can't they?"

"I'm not so sure. Thinking about it, I strongly suspect that a fairly unique set of circumstances must have existed for the Dementors to be able to enter our plane of existence. While the creatures have been able to breed in this world, they have done so only rarely, and their overall numbers never seem to increase by much. I think I can say with a fair degree of confidence that we've seen the last of the Dementors you two Banished."

"I hope so," Ginny said, hugging her arms. "In fact, I hope we can get rid of the bloody things completely, now."

"That is a wish I greatly share with you, Miss Weasley," the old man said with a smile, "although, there are still some at the Ministry who even now are urging restraint in the misguided hope that the vile creatures can be lured back into service."

"Prats," the small redhead growled.

"Being politicians, that is a very apt description of them," Dumbledore agreed merrily.

"Do you think other people will have the power to Banish them?" Harry asked.

"I really have no idea, although I confess that that's the first thing I will be trying when I next encounter one," Dumbledore confirmed. "I suspect that it will be beyond the capabilities of the vast majority of the populous, however. It's a great shame, as Voldemort clearly intends to continue these attacks, and the ability to dispose of one of his most devastating weapons so easily would have been a great boon."

"Have you heard about any further attacks?" Harry asked with concern.

"Not for the moment, but I fear further incidents will occur soon. Voldemort appears to be escalating things faster than he did during the first war, and I anticipate that this will mean more raids on both the magical and Muggle communities. He's been gathering his allies and I've heard dark rumours regarding giants and werewolves being recruited. On the plus side, the Ministry caught another pair of Death Eaters just before Christmas, but they were low ranking new recruits who weren't able to provide much information. Still, it does prove the new tactics are being at least marginally effective."

"Maybe, but I don't think we can afford to sit back and just try and pick off his followers in dribs and drabs," Harry disagreed. "The longer we allow Voldemort to consolidate, the more powerful he becomes. We need to take him out before he builds an army we won't have a chance of defeating."

"A fair assessment, but do you have any suggestions as to how we might achieve this?" Dumbledore asked in all seriousness.

"Not precisely, but we need to bait a trap and flush him out into the open. If what Professor Snape tells us is correct, he keeps Nagini by his side constantly these days, so if we can just get him to raise his head about the parapet, we can probably destroy him and his last Horcrux at the same time."

"An admirable idea, but how do we achieve it in reality?" Dumbledore pondered.

Harry glanced at Ginny who just smiled at him encouragingly.

"We're working on it," Harry said simply.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Breathing heavily, Harry edged his way down the busy corridor of the Hogwarts Express. Once again, the Weasley family had perfected leaving everything to the last minute into an art form, and they had been lucky to actually catch the train. As it was, Hermione was already moaning to Ron about having to sprint down the platform and leap onto the already moving train. Harry was just glad that Muggle safety standards didn't apply to the magical world or they would have still been standing back on the platform at King's Cross.

Pushing down the busy carriage, Harry stopped when he found the compartment occupied by Luna and Neville. He gratefully opened the door and flopped onto the seat next to the sandy-haired boy. Ginny took the seat next to him, while Ron and Hermione sat down next to Luna on the opposite side.

"We didn't think you were going to make it," Neville said, grinning at him.

"For a moment, neither did we," Harry replied before looking over at Luna. "How are you doing?"

"I'm alright, thank you, Harry," she replied, sounding a little distant. Harry noticed she didn't have a copy of _The Quibbler_ with her, which was her normal train journey entertainment of choice.

"Is your dad okay now?" Ginny asked.

"I suppose so," Luna said grudgingly, "but I do still worry about him. He's talking about shutting down _The Quibbler_ and just concentrating on writing wildlife books. It seems an awful waste to me."

"It would be safer at the moment, though," Ron pointed out. "Perhaps he can start the paper up again a bit later?"

"Possibly," the blonde witch nodded sadly.

"So, Voldemort gets his way once again," Hermione said bitterly. "Through fear and intimidation he again silences anyone who stands up to him. This can't go on. How long before his influence and power extends to every corner of this country? How long before my parents are attacked, or Mr and Mrs Weasley? Voldemort will pick us off one by one at this rate. You need to do something, Harry!"

Harry blinked. Hermione had never before suggested that dealing with the Dark Lord was his sole responsibility and he was shocked that she seemed so angry at him. Before he could say anything, however, Ginny leapt to his defence.

"What are you talking about? What the hell do you expect Harry to do?" she demanded angrily.

"You've heard the prophecy! You know it's Harry who has to kill him. Well, why doesn't he just bloody get on with it before more innocent people die!"

"You bitch!" Ginny yelled, leaping to her feet.

"Girls, stop it!" Ron yelled, before he turned to his girlfriend and spoke in a conciliatory tone. "Hermione, I know you're upset, but that's really unfair to Harry. He doesn't know where Voldemort is. We've talked about this. We need to come up with a plan to ambush the bastard, otherwise it could end up in a bloodbath. You can't just expect Harry to leap out of the train and start hunting Voldemort down. Do you want him to be killed?"

"No… I… oh, God, I'm sorry, Harry! I wasn't blaming you, it's just… I guess it's all getting to me," Hermione sobbed.

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry replied. "I do understand your frustration."

"It's not frustration, it's genuine fear," she replied, tears leaking from her eyes. "I wrote to my parents and begged them to go into hiding, but they won't hear of it. They still seem to think that a locked door will stop the Death Eaters. I'm terrified of what could happen to them."

"Even magical protections don't always work," Luna said in a dead voice. "We thought our home was well warded, but the Death Eaters tore through our protections like they were paper."

"You're welcome to stay at our home. My gran says that our place has the best protection of any house in the country," Neville offered brightly, before his voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "I guess she was worried that what happened to my parents would happen to me."

Harry looked around the compartment. His friends, his loyal, brave friends, all seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown. They'd seen the horrors that Voldemort and his followers could inflict and it was eating away at them.

"We need to crack on with our plans," he said firmly. "Once we get back, we're all going to start training hard. We'll start ramping up the Duelling Club and begin the tournament we talked about previously. We'll also train by ourselves and shed those pounds we put on over Christmas, eh? Oh, Luna, Hermione? I want you two to put your heads together and try and come up with a plan to flush Voldemort out into the open. Ron, you put some of your chess-playing skills to good use and help them."

They all stared at him like he'd grown another head.

"Look, we can either sit back and let Voldemort pick us off one by one, as Hermione said, or we can do everything we can begin to fight back. That doesn't mean blindly rushing around in circles, though, so we need a good plan. Hopefully, between me and Dumbledore we can convince the Ministry to get involved, too, and take the bastard down once and for all. So, get your thinking caps on."

They all nodded solemnly and the compartment went silent for a while.

"We should really start patrolling," Hermione said eventually to her boyfriend. "I think only about half of the prefects are on this train, so we can't afford to slack off."

"Yeah, no worries," Ron agreed, quickly standing. He seemed relieved to have an excuse to get out of the tense compartment. "Hey, perhaps we'll have a look and see what Draco is up to. He's been too quiet lately for my liking."

"Yes, good idea," Harry agreed as his two friends hurried out the door.

"That was really unlike Hermione," Neville noted as soon as they left. "She was bang out of order, mate."

"She was just worried about her parents," Harry said dismissively.

"Maybe, but there's no reason to take it out on you," Ginny said fiercely.

"The trouble is, I do feel like I should be doing more," Harry confided. "Look at us, we're heading back to school. For all we know, we might be the only two people in the country able to Banish Dementors, and we're going to be sitting in some classroom while those monsters are on the prowl. Besides, Hermione was right; I'm the one that has to take down Voldemort and I'm not doing anything about it. Ow!"

Harry flinched as Ginny hit his arm, hard.

"You're not doing nothing, you idiot, you're training so that when you do meet him you can win! What good will it do if you rush to confront him and get yourself killed? That would just doom all the rest of us," she raged. "Harry, you're doing so well. Actually, we both are! We just need to keep on training with Dumbledore as we have been doing, and make sure we wring every last bit of knowledge out of his head. Then, and only then, can you take on Voldemort."

"Yeah… I guess you're right," Harry admitted.

"Of course I am," she snorted before snuggling back against him. "Hermione will be a lot happier now she has a clear task, too. I'm sure she'll come up with something good."

"I promise to help, too," Luna piped up. "I think between the two of us we'll have most bases covered."

"Too true," Harry agreed smiling fondly at his friend.

They lapsed back into silence, although it was not as oppressive as it had been earlier. Harry's thoughts were confused, though, and a million questions were running through his mind. Where would Voldemort strike next? Would the Ministry be able to cope? Was Hermione coming apart at the seams? How long did Dumbledore have left? What was Draco up to?

All in all, he was starting to dread the new term.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Where is he?" Hermione hissed in frustration.

They had all been sitting in Potions classroom for ten minutes now, but Professor Slughorn had yet to make an appearance at their first class of the new term. The twelve assembled pupils were starting to get restless.

"I don't remember seeing him at breakfast this morning, do you?" Harry asked.

"Nah, but Slughorn often misses meals in the Great Hall, doesn't he?" Ron pointed out. "I heard a rumour that he gets a house-elf to prepare his food in private, just so the other teachers don't see all the expensive delicacies he enjoys. No wonder he's so fat."

"There but for the grace of God…" Hermione muttered.

"Do you think he might have overslept?" Harry suggested.

"Possibly, or he might even be ill. Perhaps I should go and check on him," Hermione said.

"I'm coming too," Ron said firmly. "I'm not having you wandering around the corridors of this school on your own."

"Actually, I think you should stay here. I don't trust the Slytherins not to get up to something without at least one Gryffindor prefect here," she disagreed.

Harry looked over to the table where Malfoy and three of his Housemates were lounging. Draco sneered at him as soon as he saw Harry glance in his direction.

"I'll go with her," Harry offered.

"Yeah, alright then," Ron agreed grudgingly. "I'll stay and keep an eye on the ferret."

Hermione stood and in a clear voice informed the rest of the class she was going to check up on their missing teacher.

"Oh, thank heavens, it's the Mudblood to the rescue!" Zabini crowed.

"I've told you before to watch your mouth, Zabini," Harry growled. "One day it's going to land you in a whole heap of trouble."

Zabini just looked at Harry condescendingly, but made no further comment. Harry and Hermione made their way out of the classroom and headed towards Professor Slughorn's private quarters. Once there, Hermione knocked several time without answer.

"Should we try the door?" she asked in a worried voice.

"I think we'd better," Harry said. "If it's unlocked, you can just stick your head round the edge and try calling him."

"Okay," she agreed, and tried the handle of the door. It swung open instantly.

"Professor?" she called. "Professor Slughorn? Are you in there?"

"Come on, we'd better just check nothing's happened to him," Harry decided and pushed the door wide open. He strode into the lavishly decorated room and stopped dead. On the floor, just in front of an ornate coach, was the body of Horace Slughorn, sprawled out.

"Oh, my God!" Hermione cried and sprang forward.

Harry joined her in kneeling beside the prone body, but it was clear the man was dead and had been sometime. His face was a ghastly shade of white and his eyes bulged out unseeing.

"What happened to him?" Harry wondered. "A heart attack, maybe?"

"I'm not sure, but look! There's this broken glass on the floor beside him and that opened bottle of mead on the table, there. You don't think he's been poisoned, do you?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

Harry stood and gingerly peered at the open bottle. He noticed a label attached to the neck of the oak-matured mead, and he opened it out with a finger. It read 'to Albus, Merry Christmas from Horace'.

"Harry, we need to alert Dumbledore," Hermione said urgently, rousing Harry from his speculations.

"Yeah, I'll send a Patronus. I'm getting pretty good at sending messages that way," Harry told her, before pulling out his wand and sending a spectral stag charging out of the room.

It was several minutes before Dumbledore came hurrying into the room, with Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape hard on his heels.

"What happened here?" the headmaster demanded, looking at the body in shock.

"Professor Slughorn hadn't shown up to his first lesson, so Harry and I came up here to see what was keeping him. We found him like this," Hermione explained.

"We think he might have been poisoned," Harry added. "There's this broken glass on the floor next to him and this opened bottle of mead. It's odd, sir, but if the tag on the bottle is to be believed, I think it was meant to be a Christmas present for you."

Dumbledore walked over and carefully picked up the bottle, examining the label carefully. He then shot Snape what Harry thought was a meaningful glance. He then handed the mead to the former Potions Teacher, who sniffed the contents carefully.

"Hmm, there's a slight hint of vanilla, which could possibly mean Ashwinder venom. The aroma of the mead would probably be sufficient to mask the smell even from an expert like Slughorn. It acts sufficiently fast that he wouldn't have had time to ingest an antidote, not without aid, anyway," Snape said.

"Murder! Murder right here in Hogwarts! It's unthinkable!" Madam Pomfrey cried in distress.

"Now, now, Poppy; nothing is proven yet. This is all speculation at this point," Dumbledore told her firmly.

"Why would the Professor be drinking from a bottle he meant to give to you as a gift, anyway, sir?" Hermione asked in puzzlement.

"Horace already gave me a rather interesting book on Transfiguration for Christmas, so perhaps he decided to keep this bottle for himself. It wouldn't be the first time Horace has surrendered to his veracious appetite. This brand of mead is frightfully expensive, after all," Dumbledore explained.

"So, do you think this was an attempt to kill Professor Slughorn, or was it an attempt on your life, sir?" Harry asked forcibly.

"That is a question for better people than you to speculate on, Potter," Snape snapped. "I suggest you get back to class and leave such concerns to your elders and betters."

"Not much point going back to a class with no teacher, is it?" Harry retorted. "Besides, I expect the Aurors will want to talk to me and Hermione once they get here."

"Yes, you're quite right, my boy. Ministry law officials should be summoned immediately. I will go and contact them, forthwith. Severus, perhaps you could accompany me?" Dumbledore said, and a moment later he hurried out the door with Snape right beside him, clutching the suspect mead bottle in his hand.

"I should inform Professor McGonagall," Pomfrey decided. "You two stay right here and I'll be back in just a moment."

Harry and Hermione found themselves alone with the dead man.

"This is all very odd," Hermione decided, looking at the corpse with a mix of revulsion and curiosity on her face.

"Yeah, and why did Dumbledore seem so unsurprised by all this?" Harry wondered. "He seemed pretty keen to get away so he could have a nice, private chat with Snape, too, didn't he?"

"Do you think he knows more than he's letting on?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"I wouldn't be surprised," he confirmed. "Something, my dear Hermione, is rotten in the state of Hogwarts, I fear."

The two of them lapsed into silence and they continued to gaze at the prostrate body.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement personnel arrived shortly afterwards and questioned both of them. They then searched Slughorn's quarters thoroughly before removing the Professor's covered body. While they seemed quite professional, Harry was left with the impression they weren't really interested. No doubt they had too many other deaths to investigate lately.

The next day _The Daily Prophet_ reported Slughorn's death on the front page, and speculated that he'd been killed by forces loyal to the Dark Lord in retaliation for the portly teacher refusing to join them. The whole school was shocked by the incident and even Draco seemed withdrawn and quiet. Still, Harry had a feeling that there was more to the whole thing that met the eye.

He and his five friends were currently outside in the Viaduct Courtyard, wrapped up warmly against the bitter January weather. No one else was foolish enough to be outside in the freezing conditions, which suited them perfectly.

"So, do you buy that Voldemort had Slughorn killed just because he wouldn't join him? That just doesn't seem to be his style," Ron said as they huddled together.

"No, I totally agree. If this was Voldemort's work, he'd make bloody sure that everyone knew he was responsible as a warning to others," Harry decided.

"No one seems to be mentioning the fact that the bottle of mead was meant to be a gift for Dumbledore," Hermione noted sourly. "It's almost like that part was hushed up."

"Snape took the bottle with him when he and the headmaster left, remember. I wonder if the gift label somehow went missing," Harry said with a note of sarcasm in his voice.

"But why? If this was really an attempt on Dumbledore's life, why hush it up?" Neville demanded.

"That's what worries me. I don't know about you, Hermione, but I got the feeling that Dumbledore wasn't too surprised this had happened. Maybe he'd been expecting an attack," Harry speculated.

"He certainly wasn't acting too shocked, was he? Still, if he was the intended target, it was a bit hard on poor old Professor Slughorn to end up on the receiving end," Hermione agreed.

"I guess he should have given Dumbledore that bottle for Christmas, after all," Ginny noted grimly.

"Hmm, why would Dumbledore attempt to hide the fact that someone was trying to kill him?" Luna pondered. "We know he's very ill, so perhaps he wants to die?"

"You know, as horrible an idea as that sounds, there might be an element of truth in it," Hermione said thoughtfully. "The curse he was hit with attempting to destroy one of the Horcruxes is apparently terribly painful. It could be he's hoping for an easier and quicker end."

"It's possible, but that still doesn't quite sit right with me," Harry disagreed. "Dumbledore's a clever man, and if he was going to arrange for his own death I'm pretty sure he'd do it in such a way that he made sure no one else got hurt. Even if he'd actually received the mead and died from drinking it, Slughorn would have probably been accused of murder, and I don't think he'd have wanted that."

"No, you're right," Hermione agreed. "So, why else keep this quiet? To prevent panic, perhaps? A lot of people believe that he's the only person powerful enough to defeat Voldemort. If he died it would make a lot of people very frightened."

"You're right about that, but it still doesn't explain to me why he's keeping the fact that he was the real target a secret from everyone here at Hogwarts. If someone is out to get Dumbledore, he needs to warn others if only so they don't end up in the firing line. I'm sure old Slughorn would have appreciated a warning," Ginny said.

"Perhaps he's protecting someone?" Luna suggested. "Perhaps he knows who tried to kill him and for some reason wants to keep it a secret."

Harry and Ron exchanged a startled glance and both spoke at once.

"Malfoy!"

"Really? Do you think this is what he's attempting now his plan to smuggle Death Eaters into the school has failed? He's trying to kill Dumbledore instead?" Ginny gasped.

"Actually, I think it fits," Hermione said bitterly. "They say poison is a woman's preferred means of murder, but I can just see that cowardly little ponce using it. As a member of Slytherin, I bet he could have easily gotten access to Slughorn's quarters under some pretence and tampered with the mead. It would just be like Dumbledore to try and protect him to 'save him from himself', too. If the headmaster thinks Draco Malfoy will ever change his spots, he's barmy!"

Harry looked sadly at his friend. Once, not so long ago, Hermione might have been prepared to give Draco the benefit of the doubt. Now, anyone who had the slightest association with the Death Eaters was marked in her book. Not that he could blame her in the slightest.

"If this was Draco's work, then he'll likely try again," Ron pointed out.

"What shall we do? As tempting as it is, we can't just bump the little twat off," Ginny said.

"No, we need to catch him in the act. From now on, we watch Draco Malfoy very closely. If we get the slightest hint he's up to no good, we take him down," Harry said grimly.

The others nodded their agreement. Sadly, catching the pampered Slytherin red-handed would probably be a hard task.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"…of course, Valentine's Day this year falls on a Saturday, and the Minister is determined that every pupil in this school is able to enjoy the day without fear of interference by malevolent forces," Dumbledore explained to the assembled school that morning. "I have decided, therefore, that we will get into the spirit of things and make a special effort this year. While the singing dwarfs that Professor Lockhart arranged a few years back will sadly not be making a reappearance, a special postal system will be set up to deliver your valentine cards and there will be lavish dinner and dance in the evening, for those of you of a romantic disposition. Visits to Hogsmeade will be permitted during the day, and the Ministry will be posting extra guards in the village to ensure everyone's safety. It will be a splendid day, I am sure."

"Did you notice Malfoy perk up when he heard that there would be a Hogsmeade visit," Harry said quietly as the headmaster continued his announcements.

"Yeah, he did suddenly looked interested, didn't he?" Ron agreed, trying not to be too obvious in his observation of the Slytherin table.

"Well, if you're dating someone like Pansy Parkinson, romance isn't exactly going to be your top priority, is it?" Ginny said with a smirk.

"No, but that reminds me. Ginny, would you be so kind as to accompany me to the Valentine Dance this year?" Harry asked.

Ginny broke into a wide smile. "Of course, Harry. I'd love to accompany you."

"Who else would she go with? She's your girlfriend, isn't she?" Ron snorted.

"I know, but it's still nice to be asked, isn't it?" Harry hissed, rolling his eyes meaningfully in Hermione's direction.

"Oh, give up, Harry. I'm really not expecting Ron to make any grand, romantic gestures. It's just too much to hope for," Hermione sighed.

"Oh! Err, I was going to ask you, Hermione, I was just, err… waiting for the right moment!" Ron back peddled.

"Of course you were," Hermione smiled and patted her boyfriend on the head.

"Err, Luna? Would you like to go with me?" Neville asked the blonde girl nervously. Luna was a permanent resident at the Gryffindor table now.

Luna blinked. "Well, that would be very nice, Neville, but are you sure there isn't someone else you'd rather ask? I mean, Hannah and Ernie seem to be very shaky at the moment. They're always rowing."

"I know, and I'm not going to get into the middle of that," Neville said. "Besides, it will be fun going with you. We always have a great time together, don't we?"

"Oh, yes! Particularly when you take your trousers off," Luna exclaimed brightly.

"Too much information, Luna," Ginny grimaced.

Neville said nothing. Apparently, he'd finally become accustomed to Luna's ways.

"Great, so we'll be three couples. That should make it easier to keep an eye on Malfoy," Harry said gently.

The others nodded. The six of them had been watching Draco rather carefully ever since Slughorn had been murdered the previous month. While there were some places they couldn't follow him, such as the Slytherin common room, when he was out and about they tried to keep an eye on him whenever possible. The general opinion was that the Malfoy heir was up to something, but what that might be was a mystery.

After they finished their breakfast and had started to shuffle out of the Great Hall, a familiar voice called to them.

"Harry? Ginny? I wonder if I might have a moment of your time?"

Harry turned to see Dumbledore smiling at them benevolently. It was all he could do not to scowl at the old wizard. During their private lessons, both he and Ginny had been carefully questioning Dumbledore regarding Slughorn's murder, but the headmaster had persistently maintained the Ministry line that the Potions Professor had been killed by the Death Eaters for refusing to join them. Worst still, it was becoming clear to them that Dumbledore was hiding something from them. Once you knew he was lying to you, Harry had noted ruefully, his diversions and platitudes became painfully obvious. The measure of trust that had been rebuilt between them was rapidly being eroded.

"What can I do for you, sir? Is it about our next training session?" Harry asked blandly.

"No, actually it was in regard to my announcement concerning the forthcoming Hogsmeade visit," Dumbledore explained. "Would I be correct in assuming that you will be escorting Miss Weasley here?"

"Yes, I will," Harry agreed.

"Most excellent. You see, the Minister has been in contact with me and is very keen to see the day pass without a hitch. He feels that if the Ministry can demonstrate such events can be undertaken without interference by Voldemort it will go a long way into instilling a sense of normality among the population. To that end, he is arranging for an unprecedented level of security to be mounted around the village."

"I see," Harry said, nodding his understanding.

"Rufus is, however, still concerned about the missing Dementors," Dumbledore continued. "As far as we know, you two are the only people in the world that are capable of destroying a Dementor, and the Minister was keen that the pair of you would be in Hogsmeade that day, just in case the creatures do put in an appearance. I'm sure that won't present a problem, will it?"

"No, sir," Harry confirmed. "Although it would mean we'll need to be in the village the whole day. I assume there won't be a problem if me or my friends are back a bit late?"

"No problem at all," Dumbledore confirmed happily. "I will personally write you and your friends a pass allowing you to return after normal visiting hours, and speak to Mr Filch to ensure there are no misunderstandings."

"Great, I'm certainly not going to complain about spending more time in Hogsmeade," Ginny said with a bright smile.

"I rather doubted you would," Dumbledore said. "Now, you'd best be off to your lessons before I get you into trouble with your teachers."

"Actually, sir, I have Potions next and I think it's your turn to cover the subject," Ginny pointed out. Since Slughorn's untimely demise, Potions lessons had been shared between Dumbledore, Sprout and Snape on a revolving basis until a new teacher could be found.

"Bless me, you're quite correct, Miss Weasley. Well, you'd better toddle along or I may be forced to punish you for being late for standing about talking to me. Frankly, my dear young lady, that would be paradox that even I couldn't cope with!"

Harry and Ginny turned and hurried out of the hall.

"He's losing it, he really is!" Ginny hissed as they left.

"Yeah, I think that curse is starting to affect his brain," Harry agreed worriedly. "I'm beginning to wonder how long he has left."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Saturday rolled around rapidly and Harry found himself standing beside the main gates of the school with Ginny at his side. Nearly all of his fellow pupils were lined up behind him, waiting for Filch to open the gate and let them through.

"Taking his time, isn't he?" Ron complained from nearby.

"I think he was upset at being told everyone was to be allowed through without checks," Harry explained. "I think being late is his petty form of revenge."

"Pathetic," Hermione grumbled.

It was another five minutes before the surly caretaker shuffled into sight and the man made a major production of finding the right key for the gate.

"Finally," Ginny muttered as the gate swung open.

"Wait a minute," a voice called out. "Why do Potter and his friends get to go first? I suppose Gryffindor's golden boy gets special treatment, as usual."

"Wind your neck in, Malfoy," Ron yelled at the blonde boy, who had pushed his way to the front, no doubt to cause trouble. "Harry and Ginny are going first for a reason."

"Oh? And what possible reason would that be?" Draco sneered. "To show the people of Hogsmeade what a puffed-up cretin looks like, perhaps?"

"No, Malfoy, to provide protection," Hermione yelled angrily.

"Protection?" Draco laughed. "What could scar-head possibly protect me from?"

"How about Dementors? Tell you what, Malfoy, when you learn how to destroy one of those, we'll be happy to step aside and let you go first!" she retorted.

"Actually, I'm happy to let him go ahead of me," Harry confirmed. "After all, the thing about Dementors is that they aren't too fussy about what side a person is meant to be on. They'd be just as happy to suck out the soul of a Death Eater as they would an Auror, for instance. So, by all means, Draco, after you."

Draco strode purposely forward.

"Like I'm afraid of those creatures," he sniffed. "Come on, Pansy, this scum have obviously finally realised their station in life – behind us purebloods."

Parkinson hurried forward and took Draco's arm, while sending a withering look in Harry's direction. Strangely, Crabbe wasn't with him, a fact explained a few moments later when Harry spotted him in the crowd of students with Millicent Bulstrode on his arm. Frankly, he'd never seen a less attractive couple in his life.

They let Draco get ahead before they followed after him.

"So, I guess that answers the question of whether Voldemort is planning an attack on the village today. There's no way Malfoy would have gone striding off like that if something was going to happen," Ginny noted.

"I expect Voldemort's got other plans today," Harry agreed sourly. "I wouldn't be surprised if another attack on some Muggle village occurred while the Ministry is massing all its forces here."

"It would make sense," Ron admitted. "Always attack where your enemies are weakest."

"Yes, never mind that a bunch of mere Muggles gets killed, just so long as the Ministry's publicity stunt goes off without a hitch," Hermione said bitterly.

"That's the problem with Minister Scrimgeour. He's always too worried about the political aspects of things, rather than doing what's right," Luna commented.

"Yeah, and the worst of it is that he's about a million times better than Fudge was," Harry agreed.

"Never mind that now, let's just enjoy the day," Ginny said firmly. "Who's going to follow Draco first?"

"I guess Luna and I will take the first shift," Neville volunteered.

"Yes, he tends to ignore us. I bet he won't even notice we're there," Luna smiled.

"Thanks, guys. I guess that means you're free to escort me around the village and lavish me with Valentine gifts," Ginny said, grinning at Harry.

"Oh, wacko," Harry grumbled, but in truth, he'd already been planning on pushing the boat out a bit today. After all, Ginny deserved it.

The group casually followed Draco and his reduced entourage into the village where Luna and Neville peeled off and continued to follow him. The rest of them set off to enjoy the day, which they did to a great extent. Judging by Malfoy's casual demeanour, they all felt relatively confident that the day would pass peacefully and were determine to enjoy the brief moment of calm before more troubles found them. Besides, security around the village was extremely tight, with Aurors and Ministry Enforcement patrols a very visible presence. It did bring a very welcome side effect when they stumbled into a familiar face.

"Wotcha, Harry!" Tonks called as soon as she spotted him. "How you doing? Ah, I heard from Molly that you and Ginny had got together. Good choice, mate. Is he treating you right, Ginny?"

"Yes, he's being the perfect gentleman. It will take me months to eat all this chocolate he bought me in Honeydukes," Ginny announced happily, showing the older girl her bulging bag of goodies.

"Good thinking, Harry. The way to any girl's heart is normally via chocolate. Let me know if you need a hand eating any of that, Ginny," Tonks laughed.

"You seem a lot happier than when I last saw you," Harry noted. "Any reason for that, huh?"

"Well, a certain Hogwarts ex-Professor might have got his head out of his backside and asked me out," Tonks said smugly.

"You're dating Lockhart? Congratulations!" Harry beamed.

"Prat," she replied. "Actually, you wouldn't have anything to do with Remus's sudden change of heart, would you? He wouldn't say what exactly brought it on, other than someone had managed to drum some sense into him."

"I might have written to him pointing out what a complete idiot he was being," Harry sniffed. "After all, if I could suddenly develop enough sense to ask Ginny out, it was only fair that he start using a bit of the old grey matter, too, wasn't it?"

"Harry Potter, I would bloody kiss you if I didn't want to upset the lovely Miss Weasley here," Tonks exclaimed.

"Don't worry, Tonks. I'll take care of the kissing for you later. I didn't realise he'd been doing a bit of matchmaking, but I heartily approve, I must say," Ginny laughed.

"Good girl. Anyway, I'd better try and look busy; my boss is giving me the evils from over there. You two have a great day!"

"Don't worry, we will," they both confirmed and happily headed off, hand in hand.

In the end, trouble just couldn't be persuaded to take the day off.

The six of them had reunited for lunch at The Three Broomsticks. Draco and Pansy had also trailed in, taking a table in one corner and generally acting shifty, in Harry opinion. He and Ginny took seats facing the pair of Slytherins so they could watch them clearly.

"It's strange to think this place was in chaos just a few months ago," Hermione noted as they all sat down. "Poor Katie was attacked just over by the bar there."

"Yeah, it's weird that everything seems so normal, isn't it?" Ron agreed.

"Everything is as it should be. It's us that have changed," Luna said sadly.

For a moment, Hermione stared at her friend with a blank expression on her face, before she closed her eyes and sighed.

"I think you're right, Luna. I almost feel like a different person to the one I was at the start of the year."

"Yeah, I feel like that, too," Harry nodded, although he doubted his friends would believe just exactly how true that was.

"Oh, watch out. Ferret on the move," Ginny hissed, deliberately not looking in the Slytherin boy's direction.

"He's heading into the backroom. That's a staff only area," Harry noted with a frown.

"And Pansy's apparently taking the role of lookout," Ginny added.

"I'll go and distract her while you two find out what Draco's up to," Luna announced, purposely standing.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Neville asked.

"No, trust me, I'll be able to confuse and distract Pansy more easily on my own. You just keep an eye on me from a distance," Luna told him with a fond smile.

As soon as the Ravenclaw girl had begun to skip in Pansy's direction, Harry and Ginny pulled out their wands and, hiding them under the table, cast Disillusionment Spells on themselves. They then hurried over to the door through which Draco had vanished.

"…what are you on about, you daft bitch!" Pansy's harsh voice drifted over to them, alerting them to the fact that Luna had succeeded in her goal of distracting Parkinson. With the lookout's attention elsewhere, Harry pushed open the door allow them both to slip inside.

Harry immediately saw Draco, who was pacing backwards and forwards nervously. Fortunately, he hadn't seemed to have noticed the door opening slightly and was unaware that he was no longer alone. Harry felt Ginny pulling him over to the corner of the room where a number of boxes were stacked. They crouched behind one of the large case and waited.

A few minutes later, the door swung open and Madam Rosmerta entered and, much to Harry's surprise, walked straight over to Draco and stood before him passively.

"You screwed it up, you stupid woman!" Draco snarled at her. "Bloody Slughorn ended up drinking the mead, not Dumbledore!"

"I just did what I was told," Rosmerta said in a strangely emotionless voice.

"Well, you'll just have to do better this time," Draco snapped before reaching into his robes and producing a small package which he handed to the bar owner. "I want you to give this to someone to take back to the castle. Tell them that it's a gift for Dumbledore and that you'd like them to deliver it for you. Make damn sure that whoever you use knows not to open the packet."

"I will do as you say," Rosmerta said in a dead voice. It was all Harry need to hear.

" _Stupefy!"_ Harry cried and Rosmerta crumpled to the ground. Draco looked up in alarm, but a second later he too collapsed, felled by Ginny's stunner.

"Bloody hell, why was Rosmerta helping that bastard?" Ginny demanded indignantly.

"I think she's under the effects of the Imperius Curse," Harry pointed out. "Didn't you hear the zoned out way she was talking."

"Good Godric, I never thought Draco would have the balls to use an Unforgivable!" Ginny gasped. "What do we do now?"

"I think we need a reliable Auror we can trust here, double time!" Harry said firmly. "Fortunately, there happens to be one close at hand."

Harry's stag Patronus shot from the end of his wand and vanished through the wall. He and Ginny both took a seat on one of the large boxes and waited for help to arrive.


	17. Chapter 17 – In Loving Memory

**Chapter 17 – In Loving Memory**

AN

This is the chapter that the whole of 'Abraxas' turns on, but the element of it that is responsible for that change isn't the one that I suspect most people will think it is. Let's just say that every action has consequences, and that there is still quite a lot of this story yet to be posted.

Massive thanks to Arnel for Beta reading. Glad I could find another shared English/American saying for you!

* * *

Harry was surprised that it took nearly forty minutes for the cavalry to arrive. He and his friends had been lounging at a table near the front entrance of The Three Broomsticks when the door flew open and a furious Severus Snape strode in. He took one look at Harry and sneered.

"Potter! If there's trouble I should guessed you would be at the centre of it. What's been going on here?"

"The Aurors have arrested Draco Malfoy," Hermione supplied in a cold voice.

"What? What rubbish is this? I'll soon end this farce!" Snape raged, looking around the pub until he spotted the familiar face of Tonks. Before he could do anything, however, Albus Dumbledore also entered through the front door.

"Did I hear correctly?" Dumbledore began. "Did someone say that young Draco had been arrested?"

"Yes, Albus, that's correct," Tonks confirmed, walking over to them.

"I'm sure that whatever the lad has done, it doesn't require the involvement of Aurors. As his headmaster, I feel that I should be responsible for any disciplinary matters. Perhaps you could just let me handle the situation?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

"Not this time," Tonks replied firmly. "Malfoy has been caught casting an Unforgivable. He put Madam Rosmerta under the Imperius Curse and was trying to force her to coerce a pupil to deliver an extremely dangerous cursed item to the school. The item was addressed to you, by the way."

"Just like that poisoned bottle of mead was," Hermione added helpfully.

"Yes, we found similar bottles in Rosmerta's stores and Draco has admitted he made her give the bottle to Slughorn," Tonks continued. "The boy is a murderer."

"What do you mean, admitted?" Snape demanded. "Have you intimidated the poor boy into confessing something?"

"No, we used Veritaserum. He might be underage, but the Minister has issued a standing order that we can use it whenever we encounter anyone with a Dark Mark. Guess what we found on darling little Draco's left arm?" Tonks smirked.

"Surely, there has to be some misunderstanding…" Dumbledore began.

"No, no misunderstanding. Poor Rosmerta is currently at St Mungo's undergoing treatment following her ordeal and she's calling Malfoy every name under the sun. Draco's wand clearly shows he was the one to cast the Imperious Curse, and he's admitted it under Veritaserum. The Minister himself has been informed of the arrest, and has confirmed that Draco's age is no obstacle to him receiving a full trial. In short, Albus, the boy is in deep, deep shit," Tonks told him, the glee in her voice evident.

"You always had it in for Draco, didn't you?" Snape accused her. "Just because of who his mother is! Do you hate the Blacks so much that you would frame the poor young man in this manner?"

"He wasn't framed. Both Ginny and I heard him issuing orders to Rosmerta, and we're both prepared to stand up in court and confirm it," Harry interrupted.

"A conspiracy! You've always been jealous of Draco, haven't you, Potter? I wouldn't put it past you to have dreamed up this whole scheme with this degenerate excuse for an Auror! If you think that I will…"

"Severus, stop," Dumbledore said, placing a restraining hand on the man's arm. "I fear young Draco in his desperation has taken a step too far."

Snape stiffened, but said nothing.

"Are you alright, my friend?" Dumbledore asked him quietly.

"Yes… I'm fine," Snape snapped.

Harry watched the exchange suspiciously. Dumbledore had shown absolutely no surprise that the cursed item had been addressed to him, or that Draco had been found to have a Dark Mark. It was all the confirmation he needed.

"Sir, I think you and I need to have a little chat," Harry said to the old wizard. "I think there's some issues of trust we need to discuss."

"Why you…" Snape began, but a single glance from Dumbledore silenced him.

"Yes, Harry, I suspect we do need to have a little talk. Perhaps in Rosmerta's absence she would not object to us using one of the private rooms upstairs."

"I won't be long," Harry told his friends as he stood. They all nodded and cast dark glances at both Dumbledore and Snape.

"Severus, perhaps I could impose on you to guard the door while we talk, just to ensure there are no eavesdroppers around?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape looked like he'd just been slapped, but nevertheless nodded his agreement.

Harry and Dumbledore made their way upstairs and secured a small room. The headmaster then cast a series of elaborate spells to ensure their privacy. As soon as he'd finished he turned to Harry.

"You've known Draco has been trying to kill you since the start of term, haven't you?" Harry said before the old wizards had a chance to speak. "Did Snape warn you?"

"Professor Snape did indeed advise me of the danger, and between us we have been keeping a close watch on Draco."

"Tell that to Horace Slughorn," Harry snorted. "So, what was this all about? Were you so intent on saving Malfoy's soul that you were going to let him carry on trying to murder you, willy-nilly? Didn't you think that that incompetent little shit might end up hurting other people by mistake? Was he worth it? Slughorn is dead, Rosmerta was subjected to an Unforgivable and will probably carry around the guilt of what she did under its effects for the rest of her life, and for what? Draco still ended up getting caught."

"It's not that simple, Harry," Dumbledore said solemnly.

"No, it never is, is it? Didn't you think I needed to know that someone was attempting to kill you? What happens to me, to everyone, if you die before my training is complete? Didn't you yourself complain that you weren't sure you had enough time to teach me everything I needed to know to defeat Voldemort? Letting a marked Death Eater, even one as incompetent as Draco, run around dishing out cursed items is hardly a good idea, is it?"

"Harry, I…"

"Do you really think Draco is worth it? The boy is a bigoted, cowardly arsewipe. He's his father's son in every way, and would happily see every Muggle and Muggleborn in chains, if he could."

"As I said, it's not that simple," Dumbledore said firmly. "I didn't protect him purely for his own sake."

"For whose then?" Harry demanded.

"For my own, for one," Dumbledore replied grimly. "Harry, this curse grows worse every day. The pain grows more unmanageable as time passes and I don't believe I have long left in this world. Do you really blame me for nurturing a quick, painless solution to aid my passing, particularly when it would also safeguard Draco's life? The Dark Lord is not tolerant of failure."

"Oh, don't give me that!" Harry snapped. "We both know Voldemort never meant Draco to survive this task. He's being set up to fail to punish his father. The second Draco walked into this school, with a Mark on his arm, he should have been arrested, if only for his own safety. Besides, there are a thousand painless ways you could have ended it all without relying on Malfoy to finish you off."

The old wizard stared at Harry for a moment.

"Severus was forced to make an Unbreakable Vow to aid Draco," he said bluntly.

Harry stared at the old man in shock. Why would Snape do a stupid thing like that? Unless he had no choice, of course.

"Okay, so far that justifies your actions more than anything else I've heard. I understand that you're desperate to protect your spy in the Death Eater ranks, but, bloody hell, sir! Couldn't you have kept a closer watch on Malfoy? Slughorn might have been a kiddie-fiddler, but he didn't deserve to die clutching his stomach in agony as that poison rotted his insides."

"No, you're quite right, Harry, and that is my bitterest regret about this whole thing. We knew Rosmerta was being put under the Imperius Curse, but that should have no lasting effects on her. Unfortunately, there are other factors at work here, and secrets so powerful that we had to risk innocent lives so that they might be protected and allow our plans to reach fulfilment," Dumbledore explained.

"More secrets?" Harry sneered.

"Yes, Harry, but I'm not the only one keeping secrets, am I? I think by now it is clear that little splinter of Tom Riddle's soul did rather more than make you a little bit cynical, do you not think? You have been displaying bits of knowledge that only the Dark Lord would have known for months, now," Dumbledore accused.

"So what? Yes, I admit, bits of information have been coming to me randomly, but it's not like I've suddenly morphed into Voldemort! Bloody hell, do you honestly think Ginny would give me the time of day if I started acting like him? And she'd know the signs better than most, wouldn't she?"

"Indeed, and that was why I didn't interfere with that little chat the pair of you had at Christmas," the old man pointed out. "I knew that Miss Weasley would have no truck with anyone remotely like Riddle, and that was an enormous comfort to me. Actually, the simple fact that you are obviously so smitten with the girl convinced me that you were not turning Dark, too. Bearing in mind the way you and your friends dispatched those Death Eaters when Hogsmeade was attacked, or the way those attacks on Miss Bell were stopped… don't look so surprised, I know what you did… I was becoming greatly concerned, I can tell you."

"Sometimes harsh actions have sufficient motivation behind them to make them justified," Harry countered. "Do you think me or my friends were going to let those Slytherin thugs have another crack at Katie? Hermione's still traumatised by what she saw those Death Eaters doing to a woman when Hogsmeade was attacked, and we weren't going to let anyone do the same to our friend. Besides, it's not like we killed them. Maybe this way they'll lead a better life."

"In the circumstances, I cannot criticise your handling of the matter. Mr Urquhart in particular has become a great deal less aggressive since the incident, and a much more pleasant character, I must say. But still, I had my concerns, and that is why I did not bring you into my confidence."

"You're already teaching me how to harness an almost endless supply of magical energy," Harry pointed out. "Could you really not have trusted me with this?"

Dumbledore turned and looked Harry straight in the eye.

"I rather feel now I have no choice," he agreed. "Tell me, Harry, are you familiar with the tale of the Peverell brothers and the Death Hallows?"

For a brief moment, Harry was about to state he'd never heard of them, before a distant memory intruded on him. He remembered dismissing the whole thing as poppycock, but on the other hand, if the wand did exist…

"Yes, sir, I'm aware of the story," Harry confirmed shortly.

"I'm intrigued to know what Tom's take on the tale was," Dumbledore asked curiously.

"He… didn't really believe any of it," Harry explained reluctantly. "He believed there might be some truth to the story about the Elder Wand, and perhaps even the Cloak of Invisibility, but the Resurrection Stone held no interest to him and he didn't think the items were in any way linked."

"Ah, that's most comforting to know," Dumbledore nodded. "Tell me, my boy, do you happen to have brought that fine cloak of your father's with you today?"

"Yes, I have…" Harry started, but his voice trailed off. He stared at Dumbledore in shock.

"Yes, Harry, would you believe that all three of the Deathly Hallows are presently in this very room? The cloak you of course have in your possession, the stone is concealed within this ring I wear, and the wand… well, that's been in my ownership since I won it from Gellert Grindelwald back in the forties. They are all here."

"But… what does this mean?" Harry asked. "I remember Riddle scoffing at legends of what would happen if the Hallows were reunited. What will happen now?"

"To be honest, I have no idea what would happen, however, it is not as simple as just dumping all three objects into a pile," Dumbledore explained. "I believe the Hallows have to recognise their owner to be effective, much like any normal wand chooses the wizard it is to be owned by. I possessed that cloak of your father's for many years, but it never worked correctly for me. My attempts to use the stone have all failed miserably, too. Only the wand has ever worked for me, and even now I wonder if I am truly utilising its full potential."

"So, this was all about keeping the Hallows out of Voldemort's hands?" Harry asked.

"Well, the wand, to be specific. However, if there is any truth to the legends, we need to make sure he never obtains the other items, too."

"So, can you guess what will happen if the Hallows are united by the right person?"

"My understanding is that the capabilities of all three objects would be multiplied greatly. The Elder Wand would truly become a wand to be feared, and the cloak would render its owner completely undetectable. I suspect, however, and this is only a guess, that the combined power of the Hallows would have a far greater benefit. I believe they would make their owner immortal."

"You're kidding?" Harry gasped. "All this time, Voldemort's been searching for a means to make him immortal, to the point he ripped his own soul apart to achieve it, and all he had to do was go on a glorified treasure hunt? Oh, that's hilarious!"

"I'm glad you find it funny, Harry. Personally, I am too concerned at the potential consequences should the Hallows fall into the wrong hands to be particularly amused. Now, perhaps, you understand the elaborate scheme I've been hatching to ensure that after my death Voldemort does not gain ownership of the Elder Wand, or, if he does, he will not be able to wield it to its full potential. I knew full well that Draco would never have the stomach to kill me face to face, and I intended to engineer a direct confrontation between the two of us. Severus would then have the opportunity to step in at the last minute, granting me a merciful release from my pain and ensuring that the Dark Lord would not have ownership of my wand."

"What if Voldemort subsequently kills Snape?" Harry demanded. "If he suspects that the wand isn't all it could be, it won't take him long to figure it all out."

"I rather hoped you would have taken care of the problem, by that point," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Our goal was merely to control the time and place of my demise, and ensure that Voldemort did not have immediate access to the wand. Ultimately, everything will come down to you, still. I was just trying to give you the best odds that I could."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "If you took my cloak and reunited the Hallows right now, would this stave off the curse and grant you immortality?" he asked.

"No, Harry. As I explained, I do not believe the Hallows recognise me as their master. Besides, the idea of living forever is abhorrent to me. I, for one, am looking forward to discovering just what exactly awaits me on the next great adventure."

"I see," Harry nodded. "So our priority, now Draco is out of the picture, is to make sure Voldemort doesn't get his mitts on the Elder Wand. What exactly could he do if he did?"

Dumbledore drew his wand and looked at it solemnly.

"I dread to think, Harry," he replied grimly. "There are times when I have been astounded by the power of this wand, but I am pleased to say that I have never employed it to create destruction. Voldemort would not hesitate to unleash its power on an unsuspecting world."

"I see," Harry said lightly. "In that case, I think we'd better… _Expelliarmus!_ "

Dumbledore turned just in time to see the wand land in Harry's outstretched hand. Harry caressed the light wood with his thumb, and he felt a strange thrill run through his body as he sensed the raw magical power of the wand. He knew for certain that the wand had just chosen him as its new owner, and combining it with the ambient magical power that he'd learnt to tap into, there was nothing he couldn't achieve.

Harry looked up to see the headmaster staring at him, the fear evident on his face. It was all he could do to stop himself laughing. With a casual flick of the wrist, he threw the wand back to Dumbledore, who caught it awkwardly.

"I don't want to be immortal, either," he told the shocked old wizard. "Don't lose that wand though, sir. I might need it when I next run into Voldemort."

With a wave of his own wand, Harry casually dispelled all the protections Dumbledore had cast and walked out of the door. He ignored a scowling Snape who lurked on the landing, and went in search of the girl he loved and his wonderful friends.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry stood on the barren hill and looked down on the smoking remains of the village.

"So, Voldemort did have something planned for Valentine's Day, then," he noted grimly.

"I'm afraid so, Harry," Dumbledore confirmed sadly. "We feared that he might use the opportunity presented to him, and he did."

"How many people were killed?" Ginny asked in a shaky voice.

"They are still digging out the bodies, but so far the Muggle authorities are saying that nearly one hundred and fifty people lost their lives. They are pinning the blame on a fire at small factory which was illegally storing dangerous chemicals, but I am not sure that story will hold for very long."

"What exactly happened here?" Harry demanded, looking down at the smashed houses and still smouldering buildings.

"Somehow, Voldemort has been able to smuggle at least a pair of giants into the country. He unleashed them in a rampage of violence and the poor Muggles were defenceless against them. Quite where he has managed to hide these fellows is a mystery to the Ministry. Anyway, once the giants had cleaved a path through this unfortunate village, the Death Eaters swarmed in and killed everyone they could find. They didn't linger, though, and were gone long before the Department of Magical Law Enforcement could respond."

"Can we… go closer," Ginny asked almost against her will.

"Ginny, I do not think…" Dumbledore began.

"Sir, I think we need to see. We need to know exactly what we're up against," Harry interrupted.

With a frown, Dumbledore nodded and they began to walk down the grassy slope towards the ruined village. They were all wearing Muggle clothing so as not to attract attention.

They soon reached a traditional five-bar gate and pushed it open, finding themselves in a small lane with no pavement. Fortunately, all traffic into the village had been stopped so they were able to walk down the middle of the road without fear of being run over. Ahead, they could see several columns of smoke lazily rising into the air.

Before long they encountered a sign welcoming them to Williton and asking them to drive carefully. Oddly, the houses on the outskirts of the village seemed to be completely untouched, but barely a hundred yards up the road lay a bungalow with its roof smashed in at the centre. From that point, there didn't appear to be a single building that hadn't been damaged to some extent, most sufficiently that they would never be inhabitable again.

"How many people lived here?" Ginny asked.

"Nearly two and a half thousand. It is fortunate that this was just a hit and run raid, otherwise I fear the death toll would have been much higher," Dumbledore replied.

Harry walked through the destruction silently, his heart full of rage and anger. Once, a fireman yelled at the three of them and started walking over, no doubt to tell them to leave, but an urgent call from somewhere nearby diverted his attention and he hurried away. Perhaps another survivor had been found, buried in the rubble of a house somewhere.

Soon they reached the centre of the village, which was a hive of activity compared to the rest of the place. Rescue efforts appeared to be centred on a car park situated next to what apparently been the local council offices, but where now nothing but a collapsed pile of bricks and broken glass. A gasp from Ginny halted them.

A large rectangular tent had been erected on the grass nearby and paramedics in bright florescent jackets were hurrying in and out of it. At first, Harry thought it must be being used as a command centre, until he happened to see right inside the tent and saw the lines of dark, plastic bags arranged neatly on the floor. With a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realised that they were body bags.

"There's so many of them," Ginny half whispered.

Harry said nothing, but felt tears form in his eyes as he realised some of the bags were a lot smaller than others. Some, where barely large enough to hold a baby…

"I've seen enough, sir," he said firmly. Taking Ginny's hand, he half dragged her away and back the way they'd come. He didn't look round to see if Dumbledore was following them.

They didn't stop until they were back at the metal gate at the edge of the road. With his stomach churning, Harry gripped the cold metal bar of the gate and drew a deep breath. Ginny wormed her way into his embrace and buried her head in his shoulder.

"Are you two alright?" Dumbledore asked as he came up behind them.

"No, I really don't think we are," Harry replied.

"That place looked just like Ottery St. Catchpole," Ginny sobbed. "We're not that far from home, anyway."

"No, perhaps fifty miles, as the crow flies," Dumbledore admitted. "Sadly, I've seen such things before. This sort of thing happened a number of times the first time Voldemort came to power. I do not recall him unleashing giants in this manner before, though. Their ability to wreak havoc so quickly made this incident all the more devastating."

"This has to stop. We can't allow any more villages to be ripped apart like this," Harry said bitterly.

"That, Harry, is sadly going to prove hard to prevent," the old wizard said despondently.

"No, we've come up with a plan," Ginny told him, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Ron and Hermione have been working on it for a while now. We just need a good excuse for Voldemort to attack Hogwarts."

"That, I would remind you, was my idea in the first place. Unfortunately, Harry's insistence that we destroy the Vanishing Cabinet denied us a viable means of arranging such an event."

"We had no control over the cabinet. With it being stuck in the Room of Requirement, the Death Eaters could have entered Hogwarts at any time they liked and we wouldn't have been ready for them!" Harry spat. "That's the trouble with your plans, sir, they have an unfortunately habit of getting innocent bystanders killed."

Dumbledore hung his head, the memory of Horace Slughorn still fresh in his mind.

"No, we need to set things up so that Voldemort can't resist attacking the school at the time of our choosing," Harry continued.

"Oh, and what do you propose, Harry?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"Firstly, you have to die," Harry said, with an evil glint in his eyes.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry smiled as the second year Hufflepuff ducked down beneath a brick wall and the Stunning Spell cast by the first year Ravenclaw impacted harmlessly against the stonework. The Ravenclaw looked frustrated, perhaps believing that he'd managed to catch the older boy unawares, only to see his ambush fail.

Cautiously, the Ravenclaw slowly walked forward, his wand extended out in front of him.

"Oh, that's a mistake," Ginny muttered beside him and Harry nodded. Having missed, the boy should have sought cover himself immediately, especially as he'd lost sight of his opponent and he now had no idea where he might pop up from.

Ginny was proven right a few moments later when the Hufflepuff stuck his head around the end of the wall at the far end, not close to the gate as everyone had expected. Harry grinned: the kid would have really have had to crawl fast to cover that distance so quickly, but it was worth it. A second later, the Ravenclaw stiffened as a Full Body-Bind Curse hit him squarely on the side of his head.

"STOP!" Harry yelled. "Halkirk is the winner!"

At this point, Luna leapt up and ran forward. She pulled the small Hufflepuff into a rough hug, complementing him loudly. She then turned and released the Ravenclaw from the spell, and offered a hand to steady him. The first year looked close to tears, but Luna hugged the boy warmly and started whispering something in his ear. The boy looked up hopefully, and offered Luna a small smile.

"She's so good with the youngsters, isn't she?" Hermione noted.

"Yeah, it was a great idea putting her in charge of the junior group," Harry agreed, before standing and signalling for everyone in the room to close in on him.

"Well, that was an excellent match," Harry said loudly as around thirty pupils crowded in around him. "Halkirk will now progress into the last eight of the junior duelling tournament and we'll be staging the quarterfinals next week. For anyone interested, the senior quarterfinals will start on Tuesday and I really wouldn't want to guess who'll come through that to get to the semis. Anyway, thank you all for coming today and I'll see you soon."

There were some muted cheers and the assembled mass all started shuffling towards the exit. Harry couldn't help but smile. The duelling tournament was going splendidly and he was amazed at the improvement some of the participants had shown since they first started attending the club back in September. Not that any of them would last two seconds against a Death Eater, but that wasn't the point.

"Oh, wasn't that great!" Luna declared enthusiastically as the last of the club members left the room. "I'm just so proud of them all."

"You've done a fantastic job with them, Luna," Ginny smiled.

"I wasn't just me," Luna replied, "Neville helped a great deal, too."

Neville mumbled something and looked embarrassed, but Harry could see a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

"As we're all together, I think we should discuss our plans," Hermione interrupted. "I've been thinking that maybe we could…"

Hermione's voice trailed off and they all looked around to see what had caused her to stop. There, standing in the doorway was Astoria Greengrass with a face like thunder.

"Can I possibly have a word with Potter and Weasley, please?" she demanded in a frosty tone.

"Sure, Greengrass," Harry sighed, thinking he knew what was coming. "Guys, would you give us a minute?"

The other four stood and hurried out of the room, although Ron hesitated for a moment until he was sure it was his sister that Greengrass was referring to. Once they had all gone, the Slytherin girl marched up to them angrily.

"I've just heard from my father," she spat. "The Ministry are talking about executing Draco. I gave you the head's up regarding the attack on Bell, I thought we had a deal!"

"If I recall, we said that we couldn't guarantee anything if Draco did anything to harm anyone. Professor Slughorn is dead because of his actions and someone else could easily have died, too, if his twisted little scheme to smuggle a cursed piece of jewellery into the school had worked. Ginny and I just said we wouldn't go after Malfoy as long as he kept his nose clear. Well, he didn't," Harry spat.

"Draco didn't have a choice," Astoria responded with some heat. "He knew that he and his family would be killed if he didn't try and kill Dumbledore!"

"Oh, you knew about that, did you?" Ginny said pointedly. "Didn't bother to warn us about that, did you?"

"Don't be stupid! I might not approve of those empty-headed morons looking for an excuse to rape Bell, but I'm not about to get in the middle of one of the Dark Lord's plans. Do you think I'm suicidal?"

"No, I think you're like all the rest of your House: self-serving and cowardly," Harry growled.

"Yeah, you don't give two shits who lives or dies, just so you ended up with a filthy rich husband and get to wallow in the lap of luxury," Ginny accused her. "Well, tough luck, Astoria! Both Lucius and Draco are going to rot in Azkaban if they're lucky. If the Ministry do decide to execute them, then I for one won't be shedding any tears."

Astoria glared at them.

"Fine, if that's the way you want it. Just don't expect any further help from me! In fact, next time I hear of any plots against you or your friends, I might just start offering some advice as to how to succeed!"

And with that, the angry Slytherin stomped out of the room. Harry and Ginny watched her go.

"Stupid little bitch," Ginny muttered. "Did she really think she could train Draco to be the perfect little husband and then just go off and live in comfort somewhere nice? What fantasy world is she living in?"

"I know," Harry agreed. "Still, this does mean one thing: we won't be getting any support from that House ever again."

"Yeah, but at least we know who are enemies are this way," Ginny pointed out.

"I guess so," Harry nodded, still thinking that maybe he should have handled the whole thing differently.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry sprawled languidly at the breakfast table. He'd been rather late to bed the previous evening, and was feeling a little tired. The fact that his lack of sleep had been caused by he and Ginny spending a rather a lot of time alone in the Room of Requirement was neither here nor there. Ginny, who was pressed close enough to him that their legs were intertwined, looked equally tired, if rather contented.

Across from them, Ron and Hermione were talking quietly, as was their wont lately. The pair were virtually inseparable these days, and Ron had even been known to sit outside the classroom in which Hermione had been attending Ancient Rune lessons, just so he could be waiting for her once she'd finished.

Further down, Neville and Luna sat together. Theirs was a strange relationship and seemed to be based on mutual need rather than compatibility. Still, they seemed happy enough to spend time together, even if Harry did notice Neville occasionally casting longing glances at a certain Hufflepuff. Not that Luna minded, of course. In fact, he'd lay odds that she was currently trying to come up with a way to get Neville and Hannah together.

The rest of the Gryffindors seemed to be enjoying a leisurely breakfast, with no one apparently too keen to start the day. Harry noticed Lavender giggling at something Dean said. Since those two had hooked up, Dean had been noticeably less hostile to Ginny and himself. No doubt finding an attractive girlfriend had soothed his bruised ego, and Harry thought Lavender was definitely more Dean's speed. He was pretty sure that even if he hadn't poached Ginny from his fellow Gryffindor, they wouldn't have lasted long as a couple. Dean was just too… tame.

"Good morning, everyone. I wonder if I could disturb your morning meal to deliver a few announcements," Dumbledore's voice called out, breaking Harry away from his contemplation of his housemates.

Harry turned and looked over to the teacher's table, where Dumbledore stood at his lectern, ready to address the school. Even from this distance, the old wizard looked unwell and his skin had an unpleasant grey pallor to it.

"Firstly, Madam Pince has again asked me to remind everyone that no food is to be taken into…"

Dumbledore's speech was interrupted by a loud coughing fit, which took a few moments to pass. McGonagall had to pass him a goblet of water before he managed to bring it under control.

"My apologises," he continued. "I seem to have developed a rather nasty chest infection. Anyway, as I was saying, no food is to be taken… into the library at any time… I… on no account…is…"

The Headmaster swayed and would have fallen if he'd not been able to grab the lectern at the last moment. McGonagall stood in alarm and reached out to him, but he irritably waved her away.

"I'm… I am quite alright," he growled irritably, but his shortness of breath was evident to everyone. A quick glance around the hall showed most of the pupils were wearing worried expressions, and looking at each other questioningly. No one had even seen Dumbledore in anything other than rude health.

"I will…" Dumbledore started to say, but he trailed off and a distant expression crept onto his face. A moment later, he collapsed, his shoulder catching the lectern as he fell and knocking it over.

McGonagall was at his side in an instant as was Madam Pomfrey. The whole room exploded into noise and everyone leapt to their feet to get a better look.

"SILENCE!" Snape yelled, shutting everyone up in an instant. "Everyone be seated and remain quiet!"

From where Harry was sitting, he could see the mediwitch frantically working over the prone body of the headmaster, as close to outright panic as he'd ever seen her. McGonagall hovered, ringing her hands and looking concerned. Only Snape stood impassively, his dark eyes sweeping the room on the lookout for anyone foolish enough to ignore his order to remain silent.

"We've got to get him to the hospital wing!" Harry heard Pomfrey mutter frantically.

Professor McGonagall drew her wand and levitated the still body of Dumbledore a few feet into the air. With the mediwitch clutching at the man's side, she then hurried out of the hall, levitating the headmaster in front of her.

"You will all go to your respective common rooms and await instructions. Classes will not begin until you have been advised. Prefects: get everyone moving!"

Snape's crisp order galvanized everyone into movement. The prefects hardly had to tell anyone to move, such was the rush to comply with orders. Harry stood shakily and looked over at the spot where only a moment before Dumbledore had been standing.

"Come on, Harry. We have to go," Ginny said, pulling at his sleeve.

Harry just nodded, and allowed himself to be dragged along by his girlfriend.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The entire House had sat anxiously in an over-crowded common room for the entire morning before Professor McGonagall came for them. They were ordered to go to the Great Hall, where an announcement would be made, they were told.

The silence was disturbing, Harry thought, as he made his way down the staircase. He'd never seen so many Hogwarts pupils in one place without some degree of noise. Even when the assembled Gryffindors ran into the Slytherins, coming up from the dungeon, no one uttered a word. They filed into the hall and took the same seats as they did that morning.

The teachers' table was already occupied and every member of staff, even Trelawney, was seated with a grave expression on their face. Eventually, once everyone was in attendance, McGonagall rose and stood before the lectern.

"Pupils of Hogwarts," she began. "It is with great sorrow that I must inform you all that the headmaster, the esteemed Professor Albus Dumbledore, passed away this morning."

A huge cry rose from nearly every pupil in the room, although Harry would have sworn that there were several shouts of joy from the direction of the Slytherin table.

"Quiet!" McGonagall shouted, and was just as efficient as Snape in shutting everyone up. "I know this is a massive shock to everyone, but I still expect you all to act with decorum. Now, as I was saying, it was not widely known, but the headmaster had been ill for some time. For the sake of the school, he hid his affliction and carried on to the best of his ability. Unbeknownst to us all, he apparently took a turn for the worst last night, but still tried to carry out his duties regardless. I'm sure I don't have to say what an enormous loss he is to us all, and how dearly missed he will be."

A muttering of agreement met her words, although most people seemed too shocked to react.

"Unfortunately, his untimely passing has presented us with a few difficulties," McGonagall continued primly. "It had been the Professor's intention to turn leadership of the school over to me once his condition meant he was no longer able to continue. However, this transfer of leadership was by no means complete when he died, with the result that the magical protections that surround this castle have collapsed and we cannot reinstate them for some time."

A cry of alarm met the stern witch's words and several pupils looked like they were ready to start running out of the hall.

"Obviously, in light of the current situation in this nation and the risk of attack by the forces of You-Know-Who, we have decided it would be irresponsible to keep the school open at the moment. Even as I speak, letters are being sent to your parents and guardians informing them of the school's temporary closure. It has been arranged that the Hogwarts Express will be in Hogsmeade in the morning to take everyone back to London, although if any pupil wishes to arrange alternative transport home can they please contact their Head of House."

Everyone gasped in shock at this bleak announcement.

"It is hoped that the school will only be closed for a week, no more than a fortnight at most, until the staff have been able to re-establish the school's defences. Once that occurs, we will send out letters informing you all of a date that the school will be reopening. Now, I would ask you all to return to your dormitories and pack. You may all leave your school things here, but all personal items and clothing should be taken with you. If this presents anyone with a major problem, or their designated guardian is likely to be unavailable, can they please stay behind and we'll attempt to make alternative arrangements. Now, off you all go."

There was a loud scrapping of chairs as everyone leapt up and headed out of the hall. Harry and his five friends remained seated, however. No said a word.

In the end, perhaps a dozen other pupils remained, no doubt the unexpected return home causing them problems. Harry looked over to where McGonagall stood rigidly and nodded once. He then stood and headed out of the hall, closely followed by the others. They returned to the common room, where they all packed their belongings without a fuss. The house-elves had laid out lunch for them, and they gathered in a tight circle and ate. Neville seemed rather lost without Luna beside him and several times expressed the hope that she was alright.

Around six o'clock they were all again summoned to the hall for dinner, and Harry noticed the school's population had already dwindled. No doubt a number of pupils had arranged for their parents to collect them already, or had used the school's Floo to go home. The Slytherin table especially seemed rather sparsely populated. Luna came over and joined them, seemingly very relieved to be amongst her friends again. They ate dinner quietly before making their way out of the hall. Rather than return to Gryffindor tower, however, they turned off at the first floor and headed towards the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey noted their arrival, and ushered them towards a side room that Harry had never seen used before. There, laid out on a narrow bed and partially covered by a sheet, was the body of Albus Dumbledore.

"It's a rather good likeness, don't you think?" an amused voice enquired.

"Yeah, it would have me fooled, definitely," Harry agreed.

"That was some superb acting this morning, sir. Very convincing," Luna smiled as she addressed the headmaster.

"Why, thank you, Miss Lovegood. I must confess I had a passion for amateur dramatics in my youth, and I'm pleased to see that I still retain some of my old acting chops," Dumbledore grinned.

"The plan worked perfectly," Hermione leapt in. "No one suspects a thing!"

"Yeah, and half of Slytherin have already left the castle," Ron added. "Word of your sad demise should have already spread, sir."

"Ah, I do hope they remember me fondly, although I suspect that will be a forlorn hope amongst many of the families with children in that House," Dumbledore said sadly. "Still, their departure serves a purpose."

A moment later, they were disturbed when Professor Snape entered the room.

"Everything is prepared," he announced unceremoniously. "The Ministry is preparing an official statement regarding your death and the closure of the school. The Minister will be coming to Hogwarts in two days' time to attend your funeral, which will be a closely guarded secret and only attended by a handful of people. I, of course, have notified the Dark Lord of this."

"Excellent, Severus, excellent," Dumbledore smiled. "Well, the trap is baited and hopefully our friend Tom will walk into it."

"Hopefully, sir," Harry agreed.

He felt Ginny give his hand a reassuring squeeze and he smiled warmly at her. In two days' time, everything should be ready. All the pupils of the school would be safely at home out of the way, and they would have the chance to secretly sneak as many Department of Magical Law Enforcement staff into the castle as they could lay their hands on. Hopefully, it would be a match for whatever forces Voldemort turned up with.

The trap was set. The game was afoot.


	18. Chapter 18 – Fallen

**Chapter 18 – Fallen**

I have a few things to say about this chapter. Firstly, a bit about Dumbledore in this story. Anyone familiar with my previous tales know that I can be a bit hard on the old boy, although in this story I've actually been fairly kind to him. I do, however, firmly believe that the whole Harry Potter series of books was as much about Dumbledore achieving redemption as it was about Harry himself. His self-sacrifice in HBP was the final act that wiped out all his previous transgressions (dumping Harry with the Dursleys, allowing him to be exposed to danger throughout his time at Hogwarts and, ultimately, seeing Harry as a necessary sacrifice right up until the end of GoF, etc.). Without Dumbledore seeking this path of redemption I doubt it would have been him that met Harry at the imaginary King's Cross in DH – that, for me, was proof that the old wizard had finally made good his previous sins. I've followed that concept here.

Secondly, I know I've included the films interpretation of various places and objects in certain places, while in others I've followed Arnel's advice and reverted to the books. Basically, I've picked and chosen what I feel works best, although as a rule of thumb I try to stay true to the books. Hell, look at how I write Ginny for proof of that.

Thirdly, I should mention that roughly a third of this story remains to be told. I have a lot of plot ideas that need to be addressed (where's Hadraniel, for instance?) and all will become clear in the next chapter. I've left a huge clue as to what will happen next here, though.

Enormous thanks to Arnel, especially for the aforementioned corrections between books and films. Isn't it amazing how certain ideas and images just get ingrained into our brains? I blame those pesky fan fiction writers myself…

* * *

It was a blustery March morning when the group of fifteen people gathered around the graveside. To their right, the stately castle of Hogwarts looked grey and imposing in the pale spring sunshine. The waters of the lake lapped insistently against the nearby shoreline and the wind whistled mournfully through the trees of the Forbidden Forest.

The casket containing the body of Albus Dumbledore was resting on a granite plinth in front of which the small group of mourners were seated. Solemnly, a tall man with a wild mane of tawny hair stood and, limping slightly, made his way to the front of the gathering. He turned to address them with his hands clamped behind his back.

"Thank you one and all for coming today to lay to rest one of the greatest wizards of our generation," Scrimgeour began in a clear, unwavering voice. "It is regrettable that this is such a small gathering for such a great man, but circumstances prevent us from arranging the kind of ceremony that Albus Dumbledore deserved, although I dare say he would have hated any fuss being made."

A small mummer of agreement met his words, not to mention a few nods of the head.

"Nevertheless, we, who come to mourn his passing, know of his great deeds and his even greater heart, and hopefully we can do justice to his memory. I make no bones about the fact that Albus and I didn't always see eye to eye on all things, but it is a measure of the man that he always stood up for what he believed in and fought on the side of the underdog."

At this point, Hagrid, who had been sitting at the back, burst into tears. Scrimgeour smiled at the huge man sympathetically, before pressing on.

"If everyone who wished to pay their respects to Albus could have attended today, I don't doubt this whole area, from the Forbidden Forest right over to the Quidditch pitch, would have been packed with people all wanting to honour his memory, such was the warm esteem in which he was held. Instead, we few souls must do our best to pay homage to the greatest wizard that we shall probably ever meet…"

"Greatest wizard? I hardly think so," a thin, hissing voice laughed.

Everyone spun in their seats to see who had spoken, and once they saw who it was, there was a gasp of horror. Standing calmly, no more than ten feet away, was Voldemort. The Minister's two bodyguards leapt to their feet and shakily pointed their wands at the sinister figure.

"You!" Scrimgeour exclaimed. "How did you get passed the guards?"

"Oh, come, come, my dear Minister. Did you really believe that a few incompetent Aurors could stop me? After all, I am the greatest wizard you will ever meet, not that rotting old corpse lying there in that box, laid low by one of my cunning traps."

"What do you want?" Scrimgeour demanded through gritted teeth.

"Why, your head on a plate, my dear man!" Voldemort chuckled. "With you dead, the entire Ministry will soon fall into my hands, and thereafter the whole country. Once I purify this land I can then move onto new challenges, and eventually the entire world will be mine. You are just the first step on my path to glory."

"Just by yourself?" Scrimgeour sneered. "I don't care how powerful you are, you're just one man against fifteen, and in case you didn't notice, there are some pretty powerful witches and wizards here."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't introduced my friends," Voldemort replied with sinister glee in his voice. "You may show yourselves."

Seemingly out of thin air, more than twenty black-clad Death Eaters appeared, presumably having been hidden by Disillusionment Charms previously. At their head was an angry-looking Lucius Malfoy.

"You remember Lucius, don't you, Minister?" Voldemort asked in a conversational tone. "He's been so keen to have a little chat with the man who had him thrown into Azkaban that I just had to arrange for him to be here today. In fact, I pretty much emptied the prison, I'm afraid. The place is something of a joke without the Dementors, don't you think?"

"You still won't find us a pushover," Scrimgeour said defiantly. "Everyone, form a line behind me!"

There was a scramble as the assembled guests took positions around the defiant Minister. All except one, however.

Severus Snape rose from his seat and casually ambled in the opposite direction, taking a place next to Malfoy.

"Severus, what are you doing?" McGonagall cried in horror.

"Oh, Severus was always my man," Voldemort smiled. "Indeed, it was he that alerted me to this touching little gathering. He knew how dearly I wanted to come and pay my final respects to Dumbledore."

"How very kind of you."

There was a gasp, not to mention a few screams of shock, as Dumbledore sat up in his coffin and smiled amicably at Voldemort.

"I'm afraid rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated," he said smugly.

For a brief second, Voldemort look surprised, but then he burst out laughing.

"Excellent! Most excellent!" he crowed. "I feared I had been denied one last battle with my old adversary. I'm delighted that is not to be the case. How fitting that here, in the grounds of your precious school, I will kill both you and the Minister for Magic, cementing my victory. Fear not, Albus, I intend to preserve Hogwarts and turn it into my seat of power. Today, I will claim it as my own and from here I will launch my conquest of the world."

"I rather think you'll need a few more followers than that, or have you lost a few on the way here?" Dumbledore pointed out as he nimbly climbed out of his coffin.

"No, Dumbledore they're all here. I just wanted to keep this little celebration a private affair," Voldemort spat, "but if you insist…"

The Dark Lord waved his arm once and a great cry was heard. Turning their heads, the funeral guests looked on in horror as hundreds of black garbed figures began to emerge from the Forbidden Forest. Mixed in with the witches and wizards were the creeping forms of Acromantulas and the lumbering bulk of a number of trolls. On the far side of the approaching mass, a group of Dementors floated into sight and nearby a pair of giants stomped into view. The Minister paled as he saw them all.

As the group assembled in a rough semi-circle around their master, Scrimgeour did his best to count his new foes. He estimated somewhere between two hundred to two hundred and fifty Death Eaters with a dozen trolls as backup. Add to that the two giants and perhaps forty Dementors and he was beginning to think that the various ambushes and raids the Ministry forces had conducted over the last few months really hadn't achieved much.

"So you see, Dumbledore, your situation really is completely hopeless," Voldemort declared. "You will all die here and I shall claim Hogwarts for myself. My army will use this as a base from which to first take over the Ministry, and then Great Britain! All shall fall before me!"

"Ah, well. Jolly good luck with that," Dumbledore replied flippantly. "Still, I have to say I'm not sure you really appreciate Hogwarts, Tom. I mean, you haven't even noticed that extra buildings we recently erected by the Quidditch pitch there."

Voldemort turned his head and looked in bemusement at the pair of long, low buildings that had been built next to the changing rooms. He turned back to Dumbledore with an irritated look on his face.

"Pray tell, why should I care that a few miserable huts have been built?" he growled.

"Oh, but they provide so much extra accommodation!" Dumbledore exclaimed happily. "Just look!"

Before Voldemort's eyes, the buildings began to melt away into nothing and in their place stood multiple ranks of Aurors, Hit Wizards and Department of Magical Law Enforcement staff. As soon as their cover disappeared, they let out a huge roar and, as one, ran forward. They halted around fifty yards away from the Death Eaters, who were regarding them with shock. The two groups pointed their wands at each other warily.

"Very clever, Dumbledore," Voldemort sneered, breaking into a slow handclap. "Even so, I believe I still have the advantage of numbers, and the more fearsome fighters, too. You and Scrimgeour will still die here today, and I will also have the opportunity to eliminate virtually all of the Ministry's forces in one blow, as well. I should really thank you for arranging this for me."

"That's quite alright, Tom. I don't think we'll be quite the pushover you believe, however," Dumbledore replied calmly.

Voldemort, however, was scanning the opposing side's forces intently.

"I'm disappointed that your little pet, Potter, isn't here," he noted in a cold voice. "I suppose the little coward would only have got in the way, but it would have saved me the trouble of hunting him down and crushing him like a bug. Where have you hidden the fabled Boy Who Lived, Dumbledore?"

"Oh, Harry's around somewhere," Albus replied.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry and Ginny crouched behind a thorn bush just inside the Forbidden Forest and watched as the hordes of Death Eaters ran past them. They had no fear of being discovered as they were covered by the Cloak of Invisibility, but they nevertheless felt very comfortable being surrounded by their enemies in this manner.

"How many of them are there?" Ginny whispered fearfully.

"Dunno, a lot more than we were expecting, anyway. Voldemort must have been recruiting," Harry muttered.

It seemed to take an age for all the Death Eaters to pass them by, but it could have only taken a minute or two. Once the last troll had lumbered out of the treeline, Harry turned to his girlfriend.

"Watch for Dumbledore's signal," he advised.

The two of them huddled together, their eyes staring intently at the mass of bodies that filled the grassy plane, and at one man in particular. They remained watching patiently until Dumbledore gestured towards the Quidditch pitch.

"There!" Harry exclaimed.

"I see him," Ginny confirmed, and with a wave of her wand dispelled the illusionary buildings she had summoned to hide the Ministry's forces. With grim satisfaction they watched as the now-exposed group ran forward to confront the Death Eaters.

"Right, time to get busy," he said purposefully.

"I'll do the honours," she confirmed and made a stabbing motion with her wand. "There! About two hundred yards away."

"Makes sense," Harry nodded. "Voldemort wouldn't have wanted her to be too far away."

He pulled the cloak off them and shoved it into his robes. They then turned and jogged further into the woods in the direction Ginny's Detection Spell had indicated. As the only snake native to Scotland was the adder, it had been relatively easy to create a spell that detected any reptile longer than a meter in length. There was no way the Dark Lord would have ventured too far from his precious companion.

They soon encountered a small clearing and quickly ducked down behind a tree. Casting Disillusionment Charms on each other, they stealthily peered out from behind their cover. What they saw made Harry break out into an evil grin.

In the center of the clearing was Nagini, just as they had been expecting. A faint blue light seemed to envelope the snake, suggesting Voldemort had cast some form of protective magic around his familiar. Guarding the reptile were three Death Eaters, but what had pleased Harry so much was that one of them was Peter Pettigrew.

"We take the two thugs down first, and then you make sure Nagini doesn't escape," Harry whispered. "I'll deal with Pettigrew."

He felt Ginny reach over and squeeze his arm in confirmation. Very quietly, he whispered a countdown from three, before sending a powerful bolt of energy towards the left-hand Death Eater. Almost simultaneously, a similar bolt hit the right-hand wizard. Neither of them had time to scream as they were blown to pieces by the power of the spells. Pettigrew spun around in surprise, clumsily drawing his wand and looking about fearfully. Harry stood and walked forward, fully visible now the Disillusionment Charm had been broken.

"Harry Potter!" Pettigrew gasped. "Oh, Harry, you made a mistake coming here. The Dark Lord will reward me well for…"

Pettigrew got no further as a casual swipe of Harry's wand blasted the small man backwards into a tree. Harry then made a flicking motion and Pettigrew flew forward, smashing face-first into the ground. His wand dropped from his fingers and was lost in the long grass.

"What the…" Pettigrew began to yell angrily as he shakily climbed to his feet, but he was brought up short by the sight of Ginny flying through the air with no visible means of support. She landed gracefully on the far side of the clearing, trapping both Pettigrew and Nagini between her and her boyfriend.

"Hello, Peter," Harry said with deceptive warmth. "I'm afraid that you'll find things have changed a bit since we last met. You're not going to be able to overpower me like you did back in that graveyard this time."

"Harry… please… there's no need to be hasty now, is there?" Pettigrew stammered, his hands spread before him in supplication. The silver one glinted dimly in the weak spring sunshine. While apparently submissive, Harry could see the little man's eyes desperately hunting for his lost wand. Behind him, Nagini hissed threateningly and began to slither forward. A blast of bright orange energy ripped through the protective magic surrounding the snake, making her jump like she'd just received an electric shock. The snake turned and began to hiss at Ginny, instead.

The sight of Nagini's protection being dismantled so easily clearly unnerved Pettigrew. He stared at Ginny in shock for a moment, before turning back to Harry.

"How did…" he began to say, but, quick as lightening, his hand darted into his robes and withdrew a knife which he hurled at Harry with all his might. Quick as he was, Harry was quicker, and a simple flick of his wand caused the knife to suddenly stop in mid-air. Slowly and deliberately, Harry twisted his wrist, making the knife turn and point towards Pettigrew.

"No… please," the small man begged, shivering with fear.

"For my parents."

The knife shot forward faster than the eye could track, and embedded itself in Pettigrew's forehead. He swayed for a second, before his body tumbled limply into the grass. Not sparing the traitor another thought, Harry leapt forward and pointed his wand at Nagini.

The snake was by now frantic, and kept turning this way and that, unsure which of the young humans presented the greater threat. Then, having decided the young female who had hurt her previously should be dealt with first, the huge reptile struck, lunging forward with her jaws wide and her fangs dripping. Unfortunately for the creature, her prey was no longer there. Ginny simply shot vertically in the air, out of reach of the snake's grasping jaws.

A bolt of cobalt-blue light shot from the end of Harry's wand and Nagini froze rigidly. Ginny floated over and landed softly next to him.

"Kill the bloody thing quickly," she growled, eyeing the massive snake with distaste. Unsurprisingly, she hated snakes with a passion.

Harry didn't hesitate. From a sheath on his back, he withdrew the Sword of Gryffindor. Taking a firm grip, he swung the blade, neatly cutting the snake in two. The body hung in the air, strangely separated. A moment later, a cloud of dirty green smoke appeared to billow out of the body only to dissipate into the air.

"It's done," Ginny noted with satisfaction. "Voldemort's mortal again."

The sound of a loud explosion from somewhere behind them made them both turn.

"It's started," Harry said grimly. "Come on, they'll need us."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Scrimgeour looked around desperately at the swirling mass of bodies. He was a leader and was supposed to be in control of the Ministry forces here, but the whole battle had turned into a confused maelstrom of fighters, with Death Eaters intermingled with Aurors, and no one in control of anything.

The melding of the two sides had some advantages, however. The giants and trolls, who had the potential to have devastated the Ministry's forces, were now causing as much damage to their own side as they were the opposition. One giant in particular was spectacularly unconcerned about where it swung its massive club, and Scrimgeour smiled grimly as a pair of Death Eaters were sent flying into the air, their body's ragged and broken.

The Death Eaters weren't proving so much of a threat as he feared, either. Clearly, Voldemort had padded out his forces with inexperienced thugs who were no match for the well-trained Ministry staff. Unfortunately, a hard-core of Death Eaters remained and they were causing enough trouble on their own. A piercing shriek of laughter from somewhere nearby suggested to Rufus that Bellatrix Lestrange had just made another kill, damn her.

Through the swirling bodies, Scrimgeour briefly caught sight of the pale-blond hair of Lucius Malfoy. Purposefully, he turned to one of the Aurors who had remained by his side through the fight.

"Follow me," he told the young man.

The Auror opened his mouth to speak, but instead his body lurched as a bolt of green light hit him. He fell dead at Scrimgeour's feet.

"Hello, Minister," Voldemort hissed, stepping into sight.

Scrimgeour instantly raised his wand. He might not be the most talented wizard in the history of the Ministry, but no one could ever have accused him of being a coward.

"Oh, Rufus, why are you being so disagreeable?" Voldemort asked mockingly. "Just surrender your forces, and we can end this foolishness."

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Scrimgeour snapped. "In case you hadn't noticed, we're holding our own here."

It was something of an exaggeration. The Ministry forces were outnumbered and, despite cutting a noticeable swath through the ranks of the Death Eaters, they were being slowly ground down. It might have gone differently if Dumbledore hadn't been forced to divert his attention to containing the Dementors. Idly, Rufus wondered where Potter and the Weasley girl where.

"You're losing, Rufus, and every moment you continue this futile struggle more lives are lost. Really, I have no problem slaughtering all your supporters here, but don't you care about them, at all? You could spare their lives by simply surrendering to me."

Scrimgeour was about to reply, when something caught his eye. A pair of Dementors, who had been attempting to elude the Patronus that was keeping them at bay, had suddenly twisted in the air and vanished. A moment later, another Dementor also disappeared, its fingers clawing at the air in desperation. Potter was back, which meant that Dumbledore would soon be able to join the fight, too.

"We are far from finished, Voldemort, as you'll soon see," Rufus cried defiantly, sending a curse directly at the Dark Lord. Voldemort deflected it, and sent a Killing Curse back at him. Rufus swore he could feel the spell singe the hair on his head as it just missed him.

He knew he didn't stand a chance against Voldemort, and he could only hope that either Potter or Dumbledore reached him in time. Backpedalling as fast as he dared, he concentrated on dodging and sending curses at the snake-faced monstrosity before him in the hope of disrupting his spellcasting. The tactic worked until Scrimgeour backed into the body of a fallen Death Eater and tumbled to the ground. He scrambled to try and regain his footing, but only managed to climb to his knees when a fierce blow struck him, and he fell onto his back. A terrible pain gripped his left side and it was all he could do to stop himself screaming out loud. His fingers grasped his aching ribcage and he could feel them encounter a hot, sticky substance.

"Farewell, Minister," Voldemort's voice drawled in amusement. "No doubt you will be remembered as being the last person to hold that office before I took control. Not the greatest epitaph, I suppose, but one that will have to do."

There was a flash of light, and Rufus knew no more.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"I think that's the last of the Dementors, Harry," Ginny said, relief evident in her voice.

Harry looked around. He couldn't see any more of the foul creatures, either.

"Yeah, hopefully we've sent the last of the bloody things back to wherever they came from," he agreed. "Where do you think Dumbledore… shit!"

His sentence was interrupted by a huge club being swung in his direction. He threw himself to the ground and it swung harmlessly over his head. Swiftly, he rolled onto his side, just in time to see Ginny blowing the troll's head to pieces.

"Thanks, luv," he said, grinning at her. "I didn't see the bloody thing coming, would you believe."

"We had other things to worry about," she assured him while offering a hand to help him up. "While we're on the subject, though, look at that bloody giant over there. It's wreaking havoc! We need to do something about it."

Looking over to where his girlfriend was indicating, he could clearly see the giant, at least twenty-five feet tall, wading through the fighters and swinging its club, seemingly oblivious to the spells being thrown at it.

"Time to cut it off at the knees," Harry decided. "You aim left, I'll aim right."

"My pleasure," she laughed, and sent a brilliant bolt of pure energy at the hulking beast. Harry did likewise, and both of them scored direct hits on the giant's knees.

The beast stopped and bellowed in pain, before it began to slowly topple backwards. With its arms flailing, it crashed to the ground, its cries enough to make the very earth shake. Grotesquely, its lower legs stayed rooted upright, like two pillars. Several Death Eaters stopped in their tracks and gawped stupidly at the sight.

"Let's get moving," Harry said to Ginny grimly. "We'll move forward, side by side. You concentrate your fire to the left-front and I'll do the same to the right. No mercy."

"No mercy," Ginny confirmed, her eyes blazing.

Methodically, the two teenagers began to walk forward, cutting down Death Eaters with every step.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Molly edged backwards, simultaneously trying to locate her family members amongst the mass of bodies in the near distance, whilst also watching the group of Death Eaters that were running towards her.

Dumbledore had requested that the Order members nor already committed to the Ministry forces guard the castle, both preventing Voldemort's forces entry to the school and providing a handy reserve close at hand. Unfortunately, the battle had turned into a complete free-for-all and it was impossible to tell who was winning. All Molly knew was that the fighting was swinging ever closer to the castle and that Arthur, Bill and Charlie had all gone forward to help. Thank heavens she'd persuaded Ron and the twins to stay inside Hogwarts itself. Of course, her precious daughter was out there somewhere, probably in the heart of the battle, but she couldn't afford to think about that right now.

"They're coming!" Remus cried, peering over the curtain wall.

"Bloody hell, we're for it now," moaned Mundungus, pressing himself tight against the stone.

Molly took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart. She steeled herself, repeatedly thinking about how these monsters were coming to try and kill her family. HER family. There was no way in hell she would allow that to happen, even if she had to blast her way through every Death Eater present and face Voldemort, himself.

"Get ready…" Remus called.

Gripping her wand tightly, Molly shifted her weight in anticipation. A curse was already half-formed on her lips.

"NOW!"

Leaping up, Molly rose so she could just see over the crumbling wall that formed the inner-circle of the castle. Close by, far too close for her liking, were a group of dark-robes figures, all wearing silver skull masks. The curse left her wand before she'd consciously taken aim, blasting one of the figures backwards. Other Death Eaters began to fall rapidly, cut down by the dozen or so Order members defending the area.

"Behind the wall!" one of the Death Eaters shouted a split second before his chest exploded.

"We've got 'em!" Mundungus cried in glee. "Pour it on! Get the bastards!"

Taken by surprise and with no cover, the group of Death Eaters fell like rain. Molly had a second curse ready to cast, but she found she had no target to aim at. She stared numbly at the heap of fallen bodies in front of her, not quite believing that moments ago they had been living, breathing human beings.

"Alright, stay alert," Remus called. "We don't want to…"

It was the last thing he ever said. A moment later, a massive blast blew out a huge section of wall sending rocks and debris in all directions. Remus and Mundungus, who had been standing close together, were pulverised in a heartbeat. Molly herself was blown backwards a good ten yards and she momentarily lost consciousness.

She came to just a few seconds later to find blood gushing from her nose and her ears ringing. Blearily, she looked up and saw the body of Emmeline Vance nearby, an expression of shock carved into her face. Molly tried to rise, but her legs just wouldn't support her.

Then, through the dust and smoke, a tall figure in black robes strode purposely into sight. Molly suppressed a gasp of horror as Voldemort walked past her, seemingly oblivious to her presence. Knowing that any movement would probably mean her death, Molly froze and played dead. Through half-closed eyelids, she could see a numerous Death Eaters following in their master's wake, clearly intent on entering the school and not paying much attention to what was around them.

Lucky for her.

Hardly daring to breath, Molly lay completely still as the black-robed figures hurried by. She remained where she was even after the last Death Eater had passed by, fearful of stragglers. Only after the sound of the raging battle began to intrude on her consciousness did she roll over and sit up.

The first thing she saw was the mangled body of Remus Lupin. She stifled a sob, and silently said a prayer of thanks that Arthur and her boys were not here. At least on the battlefield they'd had a chance. Here, against the unbelievable power of Voldemort, there had been none.

Desperate to find out what had become of her husband and sons, Molly climbed to her feet. Amazingly, she still clutched her wand in her hand. Shakily, she began to shuffle towards the ragged gap that had been blown in the wall, when a black-robed figure came scrambling over the scattered stones and stopped in front of her.

For a second, Molly didn't register that the person in front of her was Narcissa Malfoy, and the blond woman seemed equally surprised as she was. The stared at each other for a long moment, before Narcissa's stunned expression warped into a look of hatred.

Molly was just in time to get a Shield in front of her as a curse left the Malfoy woman's wand. All her previous thoughts vanished, as did her aches and pains, as a red mist descended before her eyes and a boiling hatred filled her. The Malfoys were Voldemort's fiercest supporters and Narcissa was a prime example of the stuck-up, hateful bitches Molly had despised all her life. Thoughts of her family vanished as she was filled with only one desire: to kill Narcissa Malfoy.

The two witches proved surprisingly matched. Narcissa, a member of the Black family, was obviously extremely well trained and had a natural finesse with magic. Molly had no such delicacy. She was an earthy woman who loved the simple things in life, but she was powerful. More powerful than Narcissa, evidently, even if the Malfoy matriarch had the edge in terms of spell knowledge.

Narcissa flicked her wand with an arrogant twist, sending a spear of ice whistling past Molly's ear, while she retaliated with a blast of energy which Narcissa had to leap to avoid. The spell blew apart some of the fallen stonework, showering Malfoy with razor-sharp shards. Snarling in pain, Malfoy raise her wand again.

 _"_ _Avada Kedavra!"_

Molly gasped as the green bolt of light shot towards her. Only a desperate dive to her right saved her, and the Killing Curse missed her by a fraction of an inch.

"Bitch!" Molly yelled, channelling every bit of anger she possessed into her wand. The bolt of light that shot out was so bright it left spots before her eyes, and seemed to mesmerise the aristocratic witch.

The spell hit Narcissa squarely in the chest, blasting her backwards a good ten feet. With her wand extended warily in front of her, Molly inched forward towards the prone body.

As soon as she got within a couple of yards of Narcissa, Molly could see her caution was unnecessary. Malfoy had been ripped apart by the power of the spell, and her eyes were staring sightlessly at the heavens. Letting out a relieved gasp, Molly put her hands on her knees as she fought to get her breath. Once again, the distant sounds of battle brought her to her senses.

Thoughts of her family once again filled her head, and she hurried towards the fighting. She paused only to cast one last glance at Narcissa's body.

"Rot in hell, you bitch!" she snarled, before running towards the sound of battle as fast as she could.

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"I think we've nearly finished them off!" Ginny exclaimed triumphantly.

"Yeah, but where's Voldemort?" Harry demanded, looking across the battlefield with a frown.

Once he and Ginny had dispatched the Dementors and been able to turn their attention to the Death Eaters, the battle was only ever going to have one outcome, not least because Dumbledore had also been free to help. Between the three of them, they had cut a swathe through the enemy's ranks, and had only been hindered by the fact that friendly forces had been so intermingled with them.

As the fighting progressed, Harry had hunted for his arch nemesis without success. Voldemort was noticeably absent from the field, as were many of his top ranking followers. He didn't know whether to be relieved that their final confrontation had been postponed, or frustrated that the Dark Lord had apparently fled. He was pondering this when Molly Weasley rushed up and hugged Ginny tightly.

"Oh, Ginny, you're alright," she cried, tears in her eyes.

"Molly, what are you doing here? Are the others still defending Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked. To Harry's eyes, the old man looked tired and worn.

"No… I… they're all dead! Voldemort came and blasted his way in. He's in the castle right now," Molly sobbed. "Oh, heavens, I forgot! Ron and the twins are there!"

"Plus Hermione, Luna and Neville," Harry added. "Molly, when you said they're all dead…"

"I'm sorry, Harry," she wept, "Remus was killed."

A loud gasp came from nearby and Harry turned to see Tonks staring at Mrs Weasley in horror. Almost without thinking, he rushed over to her and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Harry, we cannot afford to lose any time," Dumbledore called out. "The others are in danger and we must go!"

Harry nodded and gently released Tonks, who looked to be in a state of near shock.

"He was supposed to have the safe job," she practically whispered. "I was the one out here fighting. How can he be dead?"

"I'm sorry, Tonks, I'm so sorry. We'll mourn him later, but right now the bastard who killed him and his arse-licking flunkies are running riot inside Hogwarts and more people are at risk. Let's avenge Remus first, and grieve later, okay?" Harry said gently.

For a moment, Tonks looked at him like he was insane, before her face formed into a stony mask and she nodded once.

"Death Eaters have managed to slip passed us and are in the castle. Everyone, follow me!" Dumbledore called out.

Harry looked around him and saw that only perhaps two dozen Aurors and Ministry staff remained standing. He was pleased to see Mad-Eye amongst that number, and the grizzled Auror was already organising the remaining fighters into some sort of order.

"We need to get up there fast, Harry," Ginny said firmly. "My brothers are up there."

"I agree," Harry said. "Albus, Ginny and I are going to go on ahead and make sure everyone is safe. I'm sure they all had the sense to get out of the way once they saw Voldemort coming, but…"

"I understand," Dumbledore confirmed. "Before you go, take this, Harry. I think you might need it."

Dumbledore handed his wand to Harry, who took it almost without thinking. He immediately felt the awesome power of the Elder Wand pulsing through his fingers.

"I still have my old wand, which I am sure will serve me well," Dumbledore assured him. "Now, you two must go. We will follow on as quickly as we can."

With just a quick nod to his girlfriend, they both leapt straight into the air, much to the evident surprise of everyone around them. Without a backward glance, they flew as fast as they could towards the towering spires of the school. Harry thought he heard Molly yell 'be careful', but they were already too far away to be sure.

As Harry flew through the air, he felt a familiar rippling effect against his skin.

"Dumbledore must have reinstated Hogwarts' magical defences," Ginny called over.

"Yeah, they won't be able to Apparate out now," Harry yelled, having to shout to make himself heard over the buffeting winds.

Barely a minute later, they landed on the first available flat space they could see: the North Tower. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Harry ran to edge of the parapet and peered down into the Transfiguration Courtyard, but he could see no signs of movement.

"Where do you think they are?" Ginny asked worriedly.

"I don't know," he admitted, "but I know how to find out."

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"Voldemort's just entered the castle!" Hermione exclaimed as she peered at the Marauders' Map.

"What?" the others shouted, crowding round her.

"Look, he's got a bunch of his toddies with him, too," Fred growled. "Does this mean the fighting's over? Have the Death Eaters won?"

"Don't be silly. I can still see the fighting going on over there," Luna said, peering out of the window. "Oh, look! That bright orange flash - that was Ginny! I'd know one of her spells anywhere."

"Luna's right," Hermione confirmed, shifting the map so she could see the school grounds more clearly. "I can see Harry and Ginny clearly marked, and Dumbledore, too. Oh, look, Ron. There's your father!"

"So, if that lot are still outside fighting, what is old snake-face doing in here?" George demanded.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione snapped. "He's come to check on his Horcrux. Look, he's heading up the marble staircase right now, although he's left most of the Death Eaters in the Entrance Hall for some reason."

"He's in for a bit of a shock, then," Neville snorted.

"If we hurry, we can ambush him before he gets to the Room of Requirement," Fred exclaimed in an excited voice.

"Take on Voldemort? Are you nuts?" Ron demanded.

"What's the matter, Ronikins? Scared?" Fred sneered.

"No, he's just being sensible," Luna retorted. "None of us would last five seconds against him. We have to leave Voldemort to Harry and Ginny."

"We might be able to slow him down," George suggested. "Maybe if we managed to erect a Portable Swamp in front of him…"

"Weren't you listening, you idiots! Voldemort would blast through something like that without breaking step," Hermione shouted.

"Oh, and you think Harry and our little sister would do better, do you?" Fred responded angrily.

"Fred, you don't know what you're talking about," Ron said, squaring up to his brother. "You haven't seen what the most junior of Death Eaters is capable of, let alone bloody You-Know-Who! Likewise, you haven't seen just how stupidly powerful Harry and Ginny have become, either. No, trust me, when those three start chucking curses about, I'm going to find a nice, deep hole to hide in, and I don't care if you think I'm being a coward."

"You're not, mate. That's a bloody sensible idea," Neville agreed.

"Only Harry can defeat Voldemort, remember?" Luna added. "Confronting him would just be throwing your life away. Are you so eager to die?"

"Of course I'm not," Fred snapped. "I just don't want to sit here on my arse doing… what's that?"

Fred was silenced as a bright, silvery object came flying through the wall.

"That's a stag Patronus!" Hermione yelled excitedly. "It must be from Harry!"

"Where are you?" Harry's disembodied voice asked. "Do you know where Voldemort is?"

"I'll send a message back," Hermione said firmly, grasping her wand. "I told you we'd be more use here monitoring things."

For once, no one argued with her.

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"Where's mother? She should have been right behind us," Draco said, nervously peering back over his shoulder.

"Shut up, boy," Lucius hissed as they hurried after their master at a respectful distance.

Draco kept quiet, but his fear and apprehension was mounting. This should have been a simple matter. Sneak into Hogwarts while the school was temporarily undefended, kill the Minister and his fellow mourners, and then get out. There would have been nothing then left to stand in the way of the Dark Lord taking over completely. Instead, they had walked into what appeared to be a well organised ambush in which he'd seen dozens of his fellow Death Eaters cut down. Such was the carnage that he'd almost wished he was back in Azkaban. It had been a huge relief when the Dark Lord had pulled his most loyal followers from the battle and led them to the relative safety of Hogwarts.

Intriguingly, their lord had then instructed nearly everyone to remain in the Entrance Hall, including Aunt Bella. He'd then ordered Draco and his father to accompany him as he started up the steps of the marble staircase. That the Malfoys had been singled out for special attention was no surprise, but still Draco was nervous. He really wished he knew where his mother was, too.

The Dark Lord continued to climb the stairs until Draco began to feel weary. He had never been a fan of physical activity and was slightly surprised at how spritely his master seemed to be. Only when they turned off at the seventh floor did he understand where they were heading. Sure enough, they came to a stop in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

"Wait here," Lord Voldemort instructed them briskly after he had performed the required procedure to summon the Room of Requirement.

"Of course, my Lord," Draco's father replied, bowing low. The Dark Lord vanished into the room, leaving the two Malfoys alone. Lucius turned to his son in confusion. "What is this place?"

"This is the Room of Requirement, father," Draco replied. "This was where the Vanishing Cabinet was located, before it went missing."

"Do you think that's what our Lord is looking for? What use could it be to him now?"

"I really don't know, Father, but there are many other objects in the room. Perhaps he has something else hidden away in there that he wants?" Draco speculated.

"Ours is not to question his actions," Lucius sighed. "This day might not have gone to plan, but I have no doubt that we shall be victorious in the end."

"Naturally, we'll beat that rabble out there without difficulty," Draco sniffed, ignoring the fact that he'd nearly been hit within the first minute.

"That goes without…" Lucius began, but was cut short by the door of the Room of Requirement opening and his master appearing. He did not look happy.

"Where is it?" he hissed.

"My Lord?" Lucius asked hesitantly.

"The diadem! Where is it?"

"I'm sorry, my Lord, I have no idea what you mean," Lucius replied, fear creeping into his voice.

"You, boy!" Voldemort yelled, turning on Draco. "You've spent enough time in this damnable room; you must have seen it."

"I… I don't even know what a diadem is," Draco stuttered in near terror.

"Fool! Idiot! Why do I surround myself with such dribbling simpletons! Potter surrounds himself with clever witches, while I am saddled with fawning cretins! The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw; it was right here in this room. It resembled a tiara with a large sapphire mounted on it."

"I've not seen anything like that, at all, my Lord," Draco confirmed.

Voldemort stood absolutely still and looked at both the Malfoy men in turn, before his eyes settled on Draco. The Malfoy heir couldn't suppress a shudder as that icy gaze fell upon him.

"So, not only did you fail to secure the Vanishing Cabinet, you've let my most precious treasure fall into the hands of the enemy. I feel your usefulness has come to an end, young Draco."

"My Lord!" Lucius protested. "How could Draco have protected the object if he didn't even know it was there?"

"Silence, dog, or I will whip you, too," Voldemort spat. "Perhaps seeing the body of your son lying before your feet will convince you to do better in future!"

"No!" Lucius yelled as Voldemort drew his wand gracefully from his robes and pointed it at Draco. Not bearing to look, Draco closed his eyes.

 _"_ _Avada Kedavra!"_

Silence descended as Draco cringed in anticipation of the Killing Curse hitting him. It took some time before it occurred to him that something should have happened by that point. Warily, he opened his eyes and looked around.

Voldemort was standing in exactly the same spot he had been before, but crumpled on the ground before him lay the body of his father.

"How touching," Voldemort sneered. "You pathetic father thought that sacrificing his life would somehow save you, Draco. Then again, Lucius always was a fool. Still, this reminds me of a night long ago when a certain Muggleborn witch also threw herself in front of my wand to save her son. Sadly for Lucius, that witch was far wiser than he, and knew powerful, ancient magic. Lucius threw away his life for nothing."

"Lord… please don't kill me," Draco begged, falling to his knees and clutching at the body of his father. "I'm… I'm a Malfoy! We're a… an ancient and noble family. I can be of use to you!"

Then, Voldemort said something that cut through Draco's grief and revealed to him that his life had been a sham.

"You fucking purebloods," the Dark Lord sneered. "You always think you're so special."

Such was Draco's shock that he barely registered Voldemort point his wand at him again. Only when he saw the flash of green light did he realise that he was going to die. If he'd had time to think about it, he might have even welcomed the release from the misery his life had become.

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"Harry! Ginny! You're alright!" Hermione cried as she ran towards them.

"Yeah, we're fine," Harry confirmed, as his friend threw her arms around him.

"Good to see you, sis," George said, hugging his sister. He released her to be replaced a moment later by Fred, and then Ron.

"We need to find Voldemort," Harry said, gently peeling Hermione off of him. "Is he still in the Room of Requirement?"

"No, he left just a moment ago," Neville said, holding up the Marauders' Map. "The strange thing is, Draco and his dad were with him, but about a minute ago they both just vanished from the map, one after the other."

"They're dead, then," Harry said grimly. "Voldemort doesn't look after his toys after he's finished playing with them."

"Draco? Dead? Blimey!" Ron gasped. "But why would Voldemort kill them? They were his biggest supporters."

"They failed him once too often," Ginny pointed out. "Lucius failed to get the prophecy, remember, and Draco never managed to smuggle Death Eaters into the school using the Vanishing Cabinet. Finding out that Dumbledore was still alive must have annoyed old Snakeface a bit, too."

"He probably just found out his Horcrux was missing, as well," Harry added. "I'd put money on him now trying to escape so he can check on his other ones. We need to head him off before he gets away."

"He's heading up to the Astronomy Tower," Neville supplied, looking at the map intently.

"Then that's where we have to go," Ginny growled.

"Come on, then, what are we hanging around here for?" Ron asked, starting to head for the staircase.

"No, Ron! You can't come with us," Ginny snapped.

"What?"

"Ginny's right, Ron. None of you would last five seconds against him. In fact, you'd just be in our way. I'm sorry," Harry said apologetically.

"Do you expect us to just stand here holding our peckers?" Fred raged. "We've already missed the main battle, I'm damned if I'm going to miss out completely."

"Actually, I think another battle has started," Neville said, his eyes still on the map. "It looks like all the remaining Death Eaters have just ambushed the Ministry forces as they entered the school!"

"If you head back down to the Entrance Hall, you should be able to hit them from the rear. They won't be expecting that," Harry urged.

The group all looked at each other undecidedly, obviously torn as to what they should do next.

"Mum and Dad are down there," Ginny added. "They'll need help."

That did it. As soon as Ginny mentioned their parents, Ron, Fred and George made up their minds. Seeing the look of resolve that had crept onto the faces of the gathered Weasleys, Hermione, Neville and Luna all drew their wands and nodded.

"Come on, let's move," Ron said decisively, before looking at his best friend and sister. "You two will be alright, won't you?"

"Hey, Ginny can kick Voldemort's butt with her hands tied behind her back," Harry joked, before turning serious. "Yeah, mate; we'll be alright. You take care of the Death Eaters and we'll see you soon."

"Okay, I'll bloody hold you to that. Come on, let's go!"

And with that, the little group sprinted down the stairs towards the battle. Ginny looked at Harry with a frown.

"Do you think they'll be alright?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Come on, we've still got to deal with Voldemort."

Without another word, the pair of lovers rose from the ground and flew out of a nearby window, before turning and heading for the tower.

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Voldemort stood and looked out over the ground of Hogwarts. This had been the only place that he'd ever thought of as home, and he'd been relishing the thought of returning here permanently as the castle's new master. Now, it seemed all his plans had turned to ashes.

Far below, he could hear the distant sounds of battle and realised that the remains of his army must be fighting it out with Dumbledore and the Ministry forces. He smiled. There was no chance that his followers would prevail against his old nemesis, but he was indifferent to their fate. They had proved unworthy and death would be a fitting reward for them. No, he had more important things to worry about.

The fact that the diadem was missing was a major concern. It was possible that someone had just taken a fancy to it and removed it, but the deadly defences he's placed on the object made that extremely unlikely. No, he'd have to assume that Dumbledore had finally found it, despite it laying under his nose all these years. He'd always thought it a fine joke, but now with a portion of his soul possibly destroyed, he no longer saw any humour in it.

More to the point, if the diadem had been found, what about his other Horcruxes? Were they safe? His followers be damned, he had to go and check on his anchors to immortality. He'd just braced himself to launch himself into the air when a pair of youngsters suddenly flew up over the lip of the railing and landed elegantly in front of them. Neither had a broom or any other visible means of flight. Despite himself, he had to smile.

"It's young Harry and little Ginny Weasley, come to welcome me," he hissed in amusement. "I see you've learnt a few new tricks since we last met, Harry."

"Just a few," Harry smiled grimly. "Ginny, too, for that matter."

"Ah, how wonderful. I would have hated to kill you when you were so weak and pathetic. Where would be the fun in that? Still, at least now I have the chance to torture your little red-haired whore in front of your eyes before I do. I don't suppose you remember me killing your mother all those years ago, but I'll be able to recreate the scene using Miss Weasley here, just for you."

"Don't be so bloody sure, Tom!" Ginny spat. "I think you'll find that were both a bit more than you can cope with."

"Foolish, arrogant girl," he laughed, and casually threw a hex at her. He had to hide his surprise when Weasley swatted away the powerful spell without blinking.

"It appears you do have some talent, after all. I suppose a pureblood witch such as yourself would have the potential. This might actually be interesting," he smiled.

"Still banging on about blood status?" Harry snorted. "You forget, we know you're a half-blood, just like me. Why do you still pretend?"

"I suppose the deception is rather superfluous by this point, especially as all those arrogant purebloods have proved so ineffective," he admitted. "They were just a means to an end, after all. Tools, to use to destroy the pathetic Muggles once and for all. And before you start, Potter, please do not try and defend them to me. You yourself have seen how ignorant and cruel they can be. If they knew of our existence they would band together and try and exterminate us, trust me on this. If we do not destroy them first, the Muggles will kill us all, believe me."

"That's why we stay hidden," Harry said angrily. "Of course, butchering a whole Muggle village makes it a bit hard to do that, doesn't it?"

"It was necessary, you know, and… ah! It seems we have other guests arriving."

A moment later, Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, both mounted on brooms, flew into sight and landed next to Potter and Weasley.

"Oh, Severus, have you betrayed me, too?" Voldemort said tragically.

"I was never your servant!" the hook-nosed man yelled, "I might have shared some of your visions at the beginning, but the day you killed Lily was the day I became your sworn enemy."

"Isn't it strange how love makes fools of men?" Voldemort pondered lightly.

"It also gives them strength and makes them more powerful than you could possible know, Tom," Dumbledore said firmly.

"You would certainly know about loving your fellow man, wouldn't you, Albus?" Voldemort sneered. "Tell me, did Grindelwald ever take pity on you and bend over?"

"There is no need to reduce love to those crude terms," Dumbledore admonished. "I will admit, love does sometimes make fools of us all, but only if you let it. I was young and I thought I knew what true love really was, but at the time I was, as you correctly surmise, an idiot. Still, that does not diminish the feelings that gave Severus the strength to defy you all these years, or the power that Harry and Ginny here draw from each other. No, in the end you are the fool, Tom, for dismissing love so easily."

"Really? And yet, power come in so many forms," Voldemort growled. "Let me demonstrate!"

Gathering his magic to him, he launched a curse at his former follower with such power that he knew no shield in the world could stop it. He saw Snape's eyes widen in horror, before the spell hit him squarely in the chest, blowing him backwards.

"Severus!" Dumbledore cried and dropped to his knees to examine the fallen man. Potter and Weasley both took the opportunity to launch spells at him, and he was amazed at the power the two teenagers possessed. Nevertheless, experience was on his side, and he managed to dodge both the brilliant bolts of light.

As Voldemort avoided the curses, he saw that Dumbledore was still giving all his attention to Snape's fallen body. Taking the opportunity, he launched a powerful curse of his own at the man's back and literally blew the old wizard into the parapet. He stood and stretched, amused to see the man's body flop onto the stones like a broken doll.

"So much for the great Albus Dumbledore," he announced triumphantly. "Now it's just us three. If you wish to turn and run now, I'm quite prepared to give you a ten second head start."

"I don't think so," Potter snapped.

Then, to Voldemort's amazement, Potter began to summon magical energy to him. He watched in stunned silence as the troublesome teenager gathered incredible amounts of raw magic around him. Then, if this was not shocking enough, the Weasley girl began to do the same. Voldemort stared at them in shock, unable to believe that the two insignificant children possessed such ability.

Then he laughed. A loud, manic laugh that echoed off the walls of the castle.

"Oh, how wonderful!" he cried. "Such power! Such talent! My sweet, sweet, children, what a battle this will be! We will go down in legend! This will be the greatest magical duel ever fought. This castle will be levelled and we shall lay waste to the whole region. We may well crack the spine of the world with the power we unleash. What a spectacle!"

Almost trembling with anticipation, Voldemort began to summon more and more magic to him. Never before had he gathered such raw power, and the feel of it was intoxicating. Overhead, the skies blackened and flashes of lightning could be seen through the thick cloud. The very stones under his feet began to shake. What a magnificent event this would be: a defining moment when the world would sit up and take notice of the power of magic!

"No!" cried a voice and Voldemort staggered as something slammed into him. Looking down, he saw a pair of thin arms wrapped around his middle and, twisting around, he saw a battered and bloody Albus Dumbledore clutching onto him.

"Get off me, you old fool"

"No, Tom. I should have dealt with you years ago, and that was my greatest mistake. I have a chance to rectify that error now, and I won't waste it!"

Voldemort raised his wand to blast the old wizard away from him, but just as he was about to release his magic, he felt it slip away from him. Again, he pulled his magic to him, only to feel it wrenched away before he could utilise it. He staggered as Dumbledore dragged him backward.

Growling, Voldemort tried again, only for the same thing to happen. Suddenly, it occurred to him what was happening. The moment he summon the ambient magic to him, Dumbledore, using his own skill and talent, instantly pulled it away. Well, the injured old wizard wouldn't be able to keep that up long, not in his present condition. Howling in irritation as Dumbledore again dragged him off balance, Voldemort began to gather as much magic as he could.

"You old fool! Did you really think that you could…"

He never completed the sentence, as he unexpectedly felt a terrible lurch and he began to fall. Voldemort suddenly realised that Dumbledore had dragged him to the edge of the tower and pulled them both over the railing, which had been damaged earlier. Fighting down a brief surge of panic, he spread his hands and smiled. Dumbledore had obviously forgotten that he could fly, the old fool! He drew his magic into himself and prepared to slow his decent. Hopefully, he would be able to shake his foe off of him at the same time.

Nothing happened.

With a cry of anger, Voldemort realised that Dumbledore was again sucking his magic from him! He wouldn't be able to fly like this! He had to…

The ground came up suddenly and the two wizards impacted hard.

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Harry and Ginny floated downwards towards the two mangled bodies which lay at the foot of the tower. While Dumbledore lay twisted and unmoving, Harry was amazed to see Voldemort feebly trying to drag himself forward. They landed just a few feet in front of the Dark Lord

"Hello, Tom. You're not looking so good," Harry said in a flat voice.

With agonising slowness, Voldemort managed to raise his head and look at the two teenagers. His lips moved, but no sound came out of them.

"This is the point that I should urge you to show some remorse and try to beg for mercy, but I don't think you have it in you, do you?" Harry asked.

"Your heart is too black and rotten, isn't it, Tom?" Ginny added. "If you hadn't caused so much pain and suffering, I'd feel sorry for you, I truly would."

"Any last words?" Harry asked, raising his wand.

"I… regret… nothing," Voldemort managed to hiss. "The… Muggles… will… try… to… destroy us… eventually."

Harry just shook his head sadly.

"Goodbye, Tom."

There was flash of light, and the deed was done.

"It's over, luv," he told Ginny, who flew into his arms.

He didn't realise that he'd never said anything less correct in his life.


	19. Chapter 19 – Aftermath

**Chapter 19 – Aftermath**

 **AN**

I did have a very long author's note to accompany this chapter, but in the end I scrapped it as I figured nothing was going to save me from the flames/death threats that will be coming my way shortly. Seriously, I may end up being the most hated writer in HP fan fiction after this chapter, especially if my beta's reaction to it is any indication.

Before you all start hammering out your angry missives damning me to hell, I would ask one thing from you. I'd like you all to ask yourselves something after you finish reading this chapter: what should Harry and his friends do now? This story so far has been something of a morality tale - Harry accepted a little darkness into his soul and, for the most part, it worked out pretty well for him. But now, with what happens at the end of the chapter, what can he do that won't result in him becoming everything he hates and has fought against? This story is completely finished and, of course, I know what will happen, but I'd like you to ponder what his reactions should be.

Huge thanks as always to Arnel, despite the fact that I seem to have sent her apoplectic with this. How do I tell her that things are going to get even worse in the next chapter?

Right, equipment check: asbestos coveralls? Pitchfork resistant stab vest? Ant-spam software set to filter out any e-mail containing the word 'disembowel'? Get ready, kiddies, things get rough from this point.

* * *

Not quite trusting themselves to draw on their magic for the moment, Harry and Ginny wearily began to walk back towards the Entrance Hall. Neither of them spoke, as words seemed superfluous at that moment. They just held hands as they trudged back, taking comfort simply in each other's presence.

Both of them felt slightly stunned by the events of the day and neither could quite believe that it was all finally over. Voldemort was defeated and the magical world could once again live in peace. Perhaps it was thoughts like that which made the shock of what they found at the Entrance Hall all the more devastating.

As they approached the large doors, they noticed a few people bustling about outside. When one of the forms revealed itself to be Arthur Weasley, Ginny gave a cry and ran forward. She hugged her father in relief.

"Ginny?" Arthur gasped as his daughter embraced him tightly. "Oh, my love, we were so worried. Is it done? Is the Dark Lord gone?"

"Yes, Mr Weasley, Voldemort is dead, and this time for good," Harry informed him. "Unfortunately, he took Dumbledore and Snape with him. Dumbledore was a true hero in the end. I dread to think what damage would have been caused if he hadn't sacrificed himself to take down the evil bastard."

"I'm afraid they weren't the only casualties," Arthur said sadly. "Come inside you two."

Ginny gave Harry a worried glance, and hurried after her father. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he followed on.

They entered the hall and for a second Harry could only stare in horror. There were bodies everywhere. Some were dressed in the green robes of Aurors while others were all in black. At a rough guess, he estimated there must have been fifty bodies lying mangled around the room. As he looked about, a cold fear began to settle in his stomach.

"NO!"

Ginny's scream made Harry start, and he turned in time to see her run towards a small group of people huddled to one side. His eyes dimly took in Mrs Weasley on her knees, sobbing uncontrollably and Ron, clutching Hermione as if is life depended on it. Bill and Charlie were at the edge of the group, looking drawn and grim. But it was the sight of George that really caught his attention, on his hands and knees howling as if in pain. Harry walked forward a few steps before stopping abruptly as he caught sight of what was causing the Weasleys such distress. Laid out, side by side, were the bodies of Fred and Percy, battered and bloody.

Harry took a shuddering breath and turned away. Instantly, guilt began to assail him. Why hadn't he been more insistent that the others stay out of the battle? Why had he suggested they assault the Death Eaters from the rear?

Dimly, in the back of his mind, that more cynical and hardened part of him that use to be Tom Riddle sneered at him for his stupidity. Even if he'd told the twins to stay behind, what were the chances that they actually would have done so? As for Percy, Harry hadn't even known he was part of the Ministry forces. How could he have saved him?

Although he still felt terrible, Harry accepted this reasoning gratefully, glad of anything that would elevate the awful guilt he was feeling. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he didn't know where Neville and Luna were. Quickly, he hurried towards the mass of bodies, desperately hoping that they weren't amongst them.

He didn't find his friends, but instead he had another terrible shock. At the top of the stairs, he found the body of Tonks wrapped in a deathly embrace with Bellatrix Lestrange. The two witches both had knives in their hands and it looked like they had stabbed each other to death. Harry stood and looked at the cousins in horror, imagining their last frenzied moments as the pair of them blindly thrust their blades into the other, oblivious to everything other than their burning desire to kill each other.

"Harry!"

He looked up to see Luna racing towards him. He felt the briefest surge of relief that she'd survived, before he became overwhelmed by the misery of it all again. He felt the small witch slip her arms around him and hug him tightly. Tears began to fall down his cheeks as he clutched at her desperately.

"Is Neville alright?" he managed to sob.

"He's fine," Luna assured him. "He's helping move the wounded to St Mungo's."

"I…" he began before realising he had no idea what to say next. "Ginny's brothers…"

"They were very brave," she interrupted. "We only just got here in time. The Ministry staff were being cut to pieces. The Death Eaters caught them by surprise and were behind cover, while all the Aurors were out here in the open. We hit them from the rear and that gave the Ministry forces time to charge them. Fred was brilliant and took three Death Eaters down by himself before he was hit. We think he must have seen Percy fall, because he just went mad and charged into the enemy ranks alone. Poor George; he'll be terrible sad."

Harry could only nod. Words failed him at that moment.

"You can't blame yourself, Harry," Luna said firmly, apparently able to read his thoughts. "We had no idea that Voldemort still had so many followers and, remember, it was these people's jobs to fight evil."

"It wasn't Fred or Percy's," he disagreed.

"Yes, it was. I've heard you say it yourself: evil grows when good people sit back and do nothing. Well, Fred and Percy were good people, and neither of them were content to stand back and let others fight their battles."

He could only nod. In truth, he was relieved to hear Luna say that. She, at least, didn't blame him for all the death and destruction here. Somehow, his strange friend always knew exactly the right thing to say to him.

"Now, I know you must be hurting badly, but Ginny needs you right now. You should go to her," Luna said firmly.

Stepping back from her embrace, Harry smiled in agreement. On impulse, he leaned forward and gently kissed her.

"Thanks, Luna," he said simply.

"You're welcome, Harry. Now, go to Ginny!"

He almost laughed at her commanding tone in her voice, but instead it came out as a sob. Filled with foreboding, Harry turned and headed back down the staircase. The Weasleys were still gathered where he'd last seen them, standing forlornly around the bodies of their two fallen members. Mrs Weasley was hugging Ginny tightly and, as he approached, he could hear both witches sobbing.

As he drew near, Ginny looked up, apparently sensing his approach. She pulled herself from her mother's grasp and looked at him with a tear-streaked face. Not trusting himself to speak, he merely opened his arms and she rushed into his embrace. Harry hugged her as tightly as he could, and he could feel her small body shaking against him. Gently resting his cheek against the top of her head, he looked at the other Weasleys who he found were staring at him and Ginny. Molly offered him a sad smile of approval, before she knelt down and pulled George into a rough hug. Arthur dropped to his knees, and folded his arms around both his wife and distraught son.

If this was victory, Harry thought, he hated to think what defeat would have felt like.

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"Is she asleep?"

Mr Weasley looked tired, Harry thought, more tired than he'd ever seen the man. He was slumped at the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place with a cup of tea in his hand and an untouched sandwich on a plate beside him.

"Yes, I think she cried herself to sleep," Harry replied. He'd just left Ginny tucked up in one of the spare beds upstairs. It had taken her a long time to drop off and he was glad that she now had a brief respite from her grief.

"Molly was the same," Arthur confided. "I had to get her with a Sleeping Charm in the end. Bill and Charlie are keeping an eye on George. Fleur's up there, too. I have no idea where Ron is; probably with that clever little witch of his."

"Hermione will look after him," Harry said confidently, flopping into a chair opposite the Weasley patriarch. He felt shattered, but didn't think he'd be able to sleep anytime soon, not without nightmares, anyway.

Harry looked over at Mr Weasley, who seemed to have slipped into a trance. He hated to think what thoughts were going through the man's head.

"Mr Weasley," he began hesitantly, "I'm so sorry about what happened. I know that if I'd been…"

"If you're about to try and take the blame for the deaths of Fred and Percy, or anyone else on our side, then I will come over there and box your ears, young man," Mr Weasley said, snapping out of his stupor. "If anything, it's my fault. I permitted Fred to be in the castle during the attack, knowing full well that he'd manage to get himself involved. As for Percy, if we hadn't had that stupid row I don't think he would have been so keen to try and prove himself in battle. I think… I think he was trying to redeem himself."

"I suspect Dumbledore was the same," Harry admitted sadly. "He was trying to make up for all the suffering he inadvertently put me through."

"Dumbledore was dead already," Arthur said with surprising harshness. "Sacrificing himself was just a way of sparing himself more pain."

Harry could only nod. Clearly, Mr Weasley was bitter at the loss of his two sons and not feeling very charitable. With a sad smile, Harry realised that he no longer felt any resentment towards Dumbledore, despite all his manipulations. The man had been forced to make some difficult choices and had simply tried to do the best he could. Harry had accepted this and forgiven him. For some reason, despite all the pain and misery, he felt better for realising this.

"So, what happens now?" he asked in an effort to change the mood.

"We've voted Shacklebolt in as temporary Minister," Arthur explained, before a frown came on his face. "Do you know, I'm now one of the most senior Ministry officials, hence why I had to vote? I've been trying to avoid that level of responsibility all my life! Still, never mind, it can't be helped. Anyway, Kingsley is the right man to get us all back on our feet, I'm sure. Hopefully, he'll gather enough support to stay on in the role permanently, assuming the pureblood factions don't stick their oar in. Assuming there's enough of them left to worry about, of course. Rather a lot of them seemed to be on the Dark Lord's side."

"Kingsley is a good bloke. If there's anything I can do to help him, I'd be more than willing," Harry replied truthfully.

"I'm sure that just hearing you say that will count for a lot. After all, the word of the young man who defeated Voldemort will carry some weight, you know," Arthur smiled. "What about you, Harry? What are your plans now?"

A small grin came onto Harry's face. He knew exactly what he wanted to do.

"I want to finish my education without having to worry about people trying to kill me," he confided. "I'd like to ensure Gryffindor win the Quidditch Cup again, and I'd also like to spend some time with Ginny, preferably while we're not having to desperately train how to defeat some evil wizard."

Arthur chuckled softly. "That sounds like a good plan to me," he agreed.

Little did they know, Harry wouldn't have the chance to carry it out.

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"To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Urgent meeting required!"

The Prime Minister looked up from the report he'd been reading in irritation. Whenever that damnable portrait spoke it always heralded bad news. Perhaps, however, that Scrimgeour man could shed some light on all of the terrible things that had been happening of late.

"Very well, I'll meet with him now," the Prime Minister said firmly, sitting back in his chair and adopting a stern expression. He watched the fireplace expectantly, but was rather surprised when a tall, dark man stepped out of the green flames.

"Kingsley?" the Prime Minister exclaimed at the sight of his former bodyguard. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm afraid a lot has happened in a very short time, Prime Minister, and not all of it good," the big man rumbled. "I'm sorry to tell you that Rufus Scrimgeour has been killed and I've been elected to take his place, at least temporarily."

"You? But I thought you were just a kind of policeman," he protested.

"That I am, but I do have a fair bit of governmental experience and, frankly, not too many other people want the job at the moment."

"Hmm, very well," the Minister said grudgingly. "Now you're here, perhaps you can offer some explanation regarding some recent events which have, shall we say, a magical odour about them."

"Ah, yes, that's exactly why I'm here," Shacklebolt nodded. "I believe my predecessor explained to you about the problems we were having with a certain Dark Lord, yes?"

"Yes, that was explained to me, but I was assured that the matter was being taken care of," he snapped before waving the report he'd been reading in the man's direction. "No doubt that this is his work! Railway bridges demolished while trains are on them, random disappearances with no explanations, and, now, whole villages being devastated with huge loss of life! Is this the work of your supposed 'Dark Lord', Kingsley?"

"Yes, sadly it is," Kingsley admitted.

"Two hundred and four people died at Williton, you know! People are calling it the greatest tragedy to hit the country since the war! Just how many more have to die before you bloody wizards finish your own little private conflict?"

"Hopefully, none," Kingsley replied firmly. "The Dark Lord, Voldemort, is dead. He and his followers were led into an ambush by Ministry forces and eliminated. Harry Potter finally managed to vanquish his hated foe once and for all."

"Harry Potter? Who the hell is Harry Potter?" the Minister practically spat.

"Didn't Rufus mention him? Or Fudge? No matter. Harry is the young hero who has been fighting Voldemort practically since he became school age. Despite being only sixteen, he and his girlfriend managed to defeat the Dark Lord while the rest of us engaged the man's followers. It was an epic battle, I can tell you."

"Sixteen? Only sixteen, and accompanied by his girlfriend? Do you people make it a habit to let schoolboys take on homicidal warlords?" the Minister gasped.

"Well, no, but you have to understand that Harry is immensely powerful. He might just be the most powerful wizard since Merlin, himself," Shacklebolt beamed.

"And this Potter slew this Voldemort fellow, did he? He seems a little young to start killing people, don't you think?"

"I'm not sure if Voldemort even counts as people," Shacklebolt disagreed. "Besides, Harry didn't have a choice. A prophecy was made before he was born stating that he would be the one to vanquish the Dark Lord, and that's just what he did. He saved hundreds if not thousands of lives by doing so, I should add."

"I see, and what happens to this Potter fellow now?" the Prime Minister demanded.

"What do you mean?" Kingsley asked in confusion.

"Well, as I understand it you have some sixteen-year-old wizard who is insanely powerful, and who apparently has no qualms about killing if required, running about without supervision. Has this lad at least been taken into custody for questioning?"

"Taken into custody? Prime Minister, Harry Potter just saved all our lives! I'm not about to start treating him like a criminal! Besides, Harry is a fine young man, without a bad bone in his body. I have no worries about him, at all."

"Hmm, if you say so. I suppose if it was just this Voldemort fellow that he killed he can't be held responsible for… what was that look for?" the Prime Minister demanded when he saw a frown appear on Shacklebolt's face.

"I admit, Harry and his friends also had to take down some of the Death Eaters, that is, Voldemort's followers. But that was during the final battle, oh and when the Death Eaters were attacking a magical village called Hogsmeade. Those murderous thugs were killing and raping women at will, until Harry stopped them. He had no choice."

"Good God, man! Do you lot still think we're living in the Dark Ages, or something? Do these Death Eaters think they're Viking raiders? Why didn't the magical police, or whatever you call yourselves, stop all this? Why was it necessary for a schoolboy and his friends to go on a killing spree to stop it? In short, what sort of barbaric, murderous society do you people maintain?" the Minister shouted.

"Minister, it's been a dark time in our history, but I can assure you…"

"You can assure me, can you? Just like your predecessor assured me that your big, bad Dark Lord was under control? I'm supposed to take comfort from the fact there's a schoolboy with more power than the most famous wizard in history running around killing people with his bloody girlfriend? You think that's alright, do you?"

"Prime Minister, can I…"

"No, Shacklebolt, I've heard enough! Maybe you wizards think you can just carry on any bloody way you like, but normal, decent people won't stand for it, do you hear?" the Prime Minister raged. "Now, I want you to go and magic yourself back to wherever you came from, and if I hear of one more suspicious incident involving anything freaky, I assure you there will be trouble. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Prime Minister," Kingsley replied in a defeated voice.

"Good, now get out of my office."

The big man departed without another word. Still angry, the Prime Minister stood and went over to where he kept a small drinks cabinet. He pour himself a large measure of Scotch, before walking over to the window and staring out over the back gardens of Downing Street.

He'd been too passive about all this, he realised. The revelation that magic existed and there was a whole secret society existing side-by-side with the mundane world had shocked him so much that he had meekly allowed the wizards to maintain their own jurisdiction over matters. Clearly, that had been a mistake.

Gulping down his whisky, he returned to his desk and keyed the intercom to his secretary.

"Susan? Can you get me an outside line, please? I need to make a call to America."

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"…and we project a twenty per cent growth in that sector over the next five years. The recommendation is that a move into bio diversity should offset potential drops in income from the petro-chemical sector that are being forecast."

Scribbling some notes absently, Jeff Mayer, or Jeffrey H. Mayer to give him his full title, let his thoughts drift. This week's debrief from his various company heads and advisors was proving more tedious than normal. These men (and women, he reminded himself, diversity being all important these days) had no feel for business, he felt. They could rattle out facts and figures, endlessly discuss projections and balance sheets, but they had no intrinsic feel for how big business worked. They had no gut instincts for cold, hard cash.

That was how he'd made his money. He'd started in the oil trade, given a boost by his father who had been in that line of work all his life but had never made much profit from it. By hard work and ruthless efficiency, he'd singlehandedly turned the family's small company around until it was now one of the largest businesses in the world. He hadn't stopped there, either. Jeff knew potential when he saw it, and had expanded his operation by the purchase of other firms, often working in very different areas of expertise than he was used to. The purchase of a struggling software business twenty years ago, against the advice of all his Yale educated advisors, had netted him billions of dollars. He was now, quite literally, one of the richest men in the world. And with money came power and influence.

"That sounds good to me, Bobbie," Jeff drawled, cutting off one of his senior staff. "You prepare the acquisition documents and I'll look them over on my flight to L.A. tomorrow. Now, while you're all here, I'd like to discuss the problems they're having over in England."

Worried glances met his words. They all knew he was slightly obsessed by this particular subject, but he didn't give a damn what they thought. Damn heathens, the lot of them.

"Are you really sure that's something we need to get into?" a voice asked nervously. "I mean, those magic users have been blowing each other up for years. Why do we need to start worrying about it now?"

If money bought power, that power was maintained and enhanced by information. Jeff Mayer was a master at obtaining information, and from a multitude of sources. His desk was currently littered with reports from all corners of the globe and from all manner of authors. Jeff was privy to information from big business, the police, the military, various political factions and a number of data collection agencies, several of which he had set up personally. Nothing happened anywhere in the world that he didn't know about eventually. More to the point, if those events weren't to his liking, he had the influence to do something about it.

Due to his diverse range of sources, Jeff knew about organised crime in the Philippines, military exercises in North Korea, even bribery in the Zimbabwean parliament. He even knew about all the witches and wizards out there… and he hated them.

To Jeff, magic was an abomination. Raised in a good catholic family, he considered what they did to be ungodly and evil. Their secret society, outside of normal regulation and laws, made him deeply suspicious, too. Over the years he'd devoted a lot of time and resources to monitoring the magical community and he didn't like what he saw one bit.

"I'm absolutely certain," Jeff said in a voice that instantly shut up his underlings. "Two days ago, I had a call from the Prime Minister of Great Britain, who happens to be an old friend of my family. He spent a couple of years over here in the states when he was younger and I got to know him quite well. Anyway, he knew my feelings about these so called magical types and he wanted to alert me to several disturbing incidents that have occurred in his country. Simon, would you pass round the reports, please?"

Simon was Jeff's personal assistant and frighteningly good at his job. With crisp efficiency, the slim young man handed a slim, blue file to everyone. They all opened the reports and began to leaf through them.

"If you'd all like to firstly turn to pages three and four, you'll see pictures of a small English village that has been virtually flattened recently. The British press spun the incident as a result of a fire at a chemical storage facility, but the truth is that this was caused by Magicals."

"Magicals? But why would they do this?" someone asked curiously.

"Apparently, this group was led by a deranged maniac who considered all non-magical people to be vermin in need of extermination. That means you and me, folks, in case you missed my drift. The real cherry on the cake was that this bastard was enormously powerful and could blast whole buildings apart with a wave of his little fairy wand."

Jeff paused to let this information sink in before he continued.

"Fortunately, this rat bastard was defeated a week ago and is now pushing up the daisies but, and get this, he was killed by some teenage kid who is apparently even more powerful than this goon was! It wasn't the first time this kid had taken life, either."

"Jeez, don't those Brits know how to handle this kind of thing?" someone said disdainfully.

"It ain't just the Brits who have this problem," he replied. "A similar situation occurred in Brazil just a few years ago, and half of West Africa was dragged into a magical war just last year. From what I can tell, these conflicts pop up all over the world with alarming regularity."

The assembled group all shared a look of disquiet.

"In this one incident alone over two hundred people died. Good, honest god-fearing souls, cut down simply because they couldn't pull a goddamn rabbit out of a hat! This was only one such atrocity amongst many, I should add. The British P.M. estimated over one thousand citizens lost their lives in this recent conflict. Back in the mid-seventies there was an even bigger war over there, and over two and a half thousand were killed in that. The one in Africa cost nearly twenty thousand lives, apparently."

"So what can we do about this problem?" a voice called out.

"That's the question, isn't it? With this 'secret society' of theirs, they can act any damn well way they please," Jeff raged. "The witch hunts of the medieval era were the last time normal folks tried to assert any control over the Magicals, and that didn't work out too well. To my mind, these guys are nothing less than terrorists trying to destroy our way of life, and they should be treated as such."

"What are you going to do?" someone asked.

Jeff smiled. "The G8 summit is due to start next week. I think I need to have a little talk with a few people there."

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Wearily, Jeff threw his suit jacket over the back of a sofa and dropped gratefully into a nearby chair. He glanced out of the window at the lights of Denver, spread out before him. The Four Seasons Hotel really did have a great view, he mused.

"How did it go, sir?" Simon asked politely.

"Excellent," Jeff smiled. "I had no idea so many countries were as worried about the Magicals as I am."

"You made some useful contacts, then?"

"More than that, I'm pretty sure the Russians are preparing to start 'processing' their own magical community soon, irrespective of anything we do."

Although the G8 was principally a gathering of Western industrial nations, with the addition of Japan, the Russian Federation had been invited for the first time. In addition, representatives of many other nations, including China and many of the Gulf States, also attended.

Occasionally, when Jeff was feeling whimsical, he went onto the internet and typed in 'Illuminati' and then sat back and openly laughed at all the crackpot conspiracy theories he found. That's not to say there wasn't a group of people controlling the world order, it's just that they weren't secret. They were all out there, in plain sight, on the boards of multinationals or in public records listed as the heads of huge merchant banks. Money equalled power, and in the crowded conference halls of the Denver Public Library, some of the most power people in the world had gathered that day, and Jeff had access to all of them.

"Oh? I thought Magicals were well liked in Russian. They are quite traditional, after all," Simon pointed out.

"Yeltsin is losing power," Jeff confided. "He'll be out in a year, two at most. No, the real power in Russian is in the hands of the former State apparatus: the KGB's bastard children and the army. The KGB always hated anyone with magical abilities. Too hard to control, you know. Anyway, a few Magicals have been making bids for power in the normal world and its upset some very powerful people. The Russians will back our proposals fully."

"And the rest?" Simon asked.

"The Brits are already in, and the Germans seemed quite keen, too. France seems a little hesitant, but I know exactly where to apply pressure on that front. The Chinese have been suppressing Magicals for years, and I swear the Japanese only tolerate them because they know it upsets the Chinese. After the wars in Africa, no one there gives a rat's ass about them there, and South America is going that way, too. That evil wizard in Brazil really spooked a lot of folk."

"Then we're practically guaranteed global support! Providing the President goes for it, of course."

"Ah, you leave old Bill to me," Jeff grinned. "If he causes any trouble I have enough on him to see him impeached and imprisoned. Nah, the only sticking points that I can see are some of the East European nations and a few places in Asia. I can't see India going for this, at all. Still, once they see the way the wind is blowing they may fall into line."

"Wonderful, sir," Simon said. "Were you successful in your talks with the British Foreign Minister?"

"I was indeed, my young friend. I have now been appointed official advisor to the British Government during this crisis. I'll be leaving on Tuesday for a meeting with the P.M. so can you have that intelligence data ready, please?"

"Of course, Simon nodded. "Oh, and I've arranged a call with your wife in twenty minutes. She's very excited about Roger's exam results and keen to tell you all about them, so I'd recommend that you pretend you don't already know them."

"Naturally," Jeff smiled. Like there was any information that he didn't know.

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The lank-haired youth shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Clearly, the young man couldn't quite believe he was in a room with so many faces he'd probably only seen on television.

Perhaps sensing the man's uneasy, the Prime Minister cleared his throat.

"Perhaps we could begin?" he said. "Mr Mayer, perhaps you could kick things off?"

Jeff gave his best winning smile. "Of course, Prime Minister," he agreed. "Firstly, I think introductions are in order. This fine gentleman is Mr James Lambert and he is, for want of a better description, a wizard. Mr Lambert has agreed to help us following the death of his parents, killed by other wizards during their recent conflict. Mr Lambert, you are, I believe, something other wizards refer to as a Muggleborn. Can you explain what that means?"

"Yeah," the young man agreed nervously. "It means my parents weren't magical, at all. If your parents were a witch and a wizard, you're referred to as a Pureblood. If only one of them was then you're a Half-blood."

"Is this significant in any way?" Jeff asked.

"Oh, definitely. Purebloods look down on Muggleborns as being inferior. Half-bloods too, to a lesser degree. The Purebloods are the aristocracy of the Wizarding world and believe they're automatically superior. All the best jobs are reserved for them, too."

"Interesting," Jeff nodded. "And what is the opinion of the average Pureblood of non-magical people like us?"

"We call you lot Muggles, actually," Lambert supplied. "Most Purebloods think of Muggles as little more than animals. That's one of the reasons You-Know-Who managed to gather so much support, because he wanted to wipe out you Muggles completely."

"You-Know-Who was the name most wizards used to describe the recently defeated Dark Lord," Jeff explained to the group. "Apparently, he was so feared no one dared utter his name."

"Don't laugh!" Lambert snapped when this comment raised a titter amongst the assembled group. "You wouldn't have dared say his name either if you'd ever have seen him in the flesh. Mind you, you'd have probably been dead shortly afterwards."

"And this youth that managed to kill You-Know-Who, this Harry Potter. What of him?"

"Dunno, really. The press have made him out to be this big hero, but they were calling him a delusional maniac just a short while before," Lambert explained. "He was in this competition a few years back, called the Triwizard Tournament, which he won. The thing is, one of his main competitors ended up being killed and they never did get to the bottom of how it happened, exactly."

"So, this Potter might be dangerous?" Jeff pressed.

"He killed bloody You-Know-Who and a bunch of his Death Eaters, so of course he's dangerous!" Lambert exclaimed. "Not that it did my parents any good. Those bloody Death Eaters cut them down without mercy. They were defenceless! But that's the thing; to them lot my parents weren't people, they were just cattle."

"How were they killed?" the Foreign Secretary asked kindly.

"They used the Killing Curse. That's a spell that will kill anyone stone dead with just a wave of their wand. It's one of the Unforgivables: that's three spells that are supposed to be completely illegal and will get you a life sentence if used. The thing is, all three of them seem to have gotten a lot of use lately and I haven't heard of too many people getting banged up for it."

"What are the others?" the Chief of the General Staff asked.

"There's the Imperius Curse, which allows the person who casts it to completely control their victim. I heard one story about a teenage girl who stabbed her own father to death in the street under its influence. Course, she killed herself shortly after when she realised what she'd done. The other spell is the Cruciatus Curse which inflicts incredible pain on someone. The Death Eaters regularly use it to torture people into insanity."

"Good God," the Home Secretary muttered.

"What other weapons can they use against us?" a Rear Admiral asked.

"A Fiendfyre Spell can create a magical inferno that can level an entire village, and they have other spells that can blow just about anything apart," Lambert started to explain. "They also have all sorts of beasts that can be unleashed: giants, trolls, huge spiders, ghoul-like creatures that can suck your soul out, dragons. Oh, and they can re-animate the dead into something they call Inferi who mindlessly do the bidding of whoever created them."

"They can unleash a zombie apocalypse on us? Sweet Jesus," the Home Secretary gasped.

"Mr Lambert, I think that will do for now," Jeff interrupted. "Perhaps if you'd like to go with this gentleman here and review our intelligence regarding the capabilities of the average witch or wizard. I'm sure there's much you could teach us."

"Yeah, my pleasure," the man agreed, standing up hurriedly.

"We're very sorry for your loss, Mr Lambert, and will do everything in our power to bring to justice the vile people who murdered your family," the Prime Minister added.

"Thank you," Lambert replied simply and went willingly with one of the Civil Servants in attendance.

There was a mutter of disquiet as soon as the man left.

"Ladies and Gentleman, I think you can begin to see just what a threat these Magicals pose to us," Jeff said in a loud voice, bringing everyone's attention back to him. "These are not idle threats, either. We estimate wizards have killed thousands of UK citizens in the last twenty years in various secret wars, but that is the tip of the iceberg. Can you all turn to page sixty-four of your briefing document?"

There was a flurry of paper turning and the room went quiet as they all began to read. It didn't take long to get a reaction.

"Are you telling me that Hitler rose to power with the help of a wizard?" an army general exclaimed in horror.

"Indeed, a wizard named Grindelwald oversaw his rise and actively helped him many times. Grindelwald was at the time making his own grab for control of the Wizarding World, and used the conflict in the normal world to aid his cause. The concentration camps weren't only for Jews and gypsies, but also his opponents. Yes, a war in which over sixty million people were killed was started by a wizard intent on world conquest."

There was a stunned silence.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope you now appreciate that the Magicals are in fact terrorists. Possibly the foulest, most dangerous terrorist that ever existed and ones that threaten our very existence," Jeff said passionately. "Other nations around the world have already come to this conclusion and are taking action. China has for years executed any Magical it discovers and I understand that in Russia a similar order has recently been passed. Even America has agreed that we must handle this matter with ruthless efficiency."

"I spoke to the President last night and he confirmed this," the Prime Minister chipped in.

"What are we talking here? Genocide? Do we have to start slaughtering babies in their crib just because they might be magical?" the Foreign Minister demanded.

"No, definitely not," Jeff confirmed. "Without education and training these magical powers mean nothing. If we can eradicate the current control structure and prevent it rising again, the next generation of Magicals will have no means of harnessing their powers. It takes years of training to become a witch or wizard, and if we can destroy their education and control system, we can prevent future generations gaining these terrible abilities. They might seem a bit weird to you or me, but that will be it. No, we just have to eliminate the current generation of witches and wizards and this threat will be removed forever."

"How do we do that, exactly?" someone demanded. "I mean, these people look exactly like us."

"I'm not saying it will be easy, and we face a long and difficult task. However, there are large concentrations of these Magicals, and if we strike quickly and decisively, we can take out the majority of them in one go. Simon? If you would."

A large screen flickered into life against one wall. Everyone turned to look at it.

"What you are looking at, Ladies and Gentlemen, is an image captured from a US military spy satellite. As you will see, it covers most of the United Kingdom and it shows the electro-magnetic spectrum. In short, this shows all major electric output over the entire country. Notice how it's particularly dense around all the major cities. Now, also notice how in certain areas there is almost no electrical activity, at all. There's a very large patch up here in Scotland, for instance. This, we believe, is where there is a concentration of Magicals."

"How do you tell them apart from just uninhabited areas? I can see big gaps in Wales and around Dartmoor, for instance," a voice called out.

"Next slide, please," Jeff called. The screen changed, still showing a picture of the UK, but rather than patches of blue, there were now large blotches of red everywhere. "This is from the same satellite, but was taken with a thermal camera. If you look at the area of Scotland I indicated earlier, you'll see a large thermal signature indicating a settlement. Overlap that with the electro-magnetic shot, and we can clearly see where our pesky Magicals are hiding. It's just a matter of identifying the areas with large heat signatures but no electrical activity."

"Human intelligence backs up these findings," the Head of MI5 confirmed.

"We've got them, then," an unidentified voice declared.

"But how do we deal with them?" someone else demanded. "That area in Scotland must be huge."

Jeff smiled. "If you would all turn to page ninety-eight in briefing you'll find an action plan laid out."

After a few minutes there were several audible gasps of surprise.

"You can't be serious!" the Home Secretary exclaimed. "You propose this, on our own soil?"

"There's no other way," Mayer insisted. "We need to make sure none of them escape. Besides, it will fit our cover story portraying them as terrorists perfectly. We'll just claim they were responsible."

An uneasy silence descended on the room. No one, Jeff was pleased to note, was arguing, however.

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Rosmerta leant against the frame of the side entrance to The Three Broomsticks and sighed contentedly. This was her favourite time of the day when she could just take a little time to herself, secure in the knowledge that the kitchen staff were already hard at work preparing for the lunchtime rush, and the bar was fully stocked and ready to go. She could just enjoy her coffee and relax. Frankly, after the last few months she'd had, she needed some rest.

Sniffing the air, she savoured the rich late-Spring scents that were being carried on a gentle wind. From where she was standing, Rosmerta could clearly see the back garden of the Post Office which was meticulously maintained by old Mrs Halfpenny. While Rosmerta was distinctly lacking in horticultural skills, she always appreciated the riot of colour that was the old woman's garden in the summer. This year would be no exception.

With a glance at her watch, she realised it was time to head inside and start on her preparations for lunch. She had just finished the last dregs of her coffee when something caught her eye. At first, she thought it was someone on a broom, but she quickly realised it was moving too fast for that. Intrigued, she watched the object as it flew rapidly towards the castle.

Then it exploded.

Mercifully, Rosmerta's brain barely had time to register her eyes being dissolved into liquid and her hair shrivelling in the intense heat. The massive third degree burns barely had time to form on her exposed skin before the massive shockwave hit her, carbonising her instantly. Behind her, the pub was flattened in the blink of an eye, as was every other building in Hogsmeade.

To the North, the firestorm enveloped Hogwarts Castle, tearing down every tower and ripping the roofs off every other structure. Unable to withstand the blast that moved at over three hundred meters a second, the marble staircase tower collapsed in on itself, wreaking terrible damage around it as it fell, and killing most of the teaching staff who were in the Headmistress's office at that moment conducting a meeting. Huge chunks of masonry crashed through the ceiling of the Grand Hall, virtually levelling it.

Further out, the huge wave of fire reached the lake, causing a massive cloud of steam to form and super-heating the water, killing every living thing within it. Hagrid, sleeping late in his cabin never knew what hit him as he and everything he owned was incinerated instantly.

The citizens of Hogsmeade would probably have been surprised to learn that the nuclear warhead that had detonated over their sleepy village was quite a small devise by most reckoning – less than five kilotons, but it would have provided them with little comfort. In less than twenty seconds, every living thing within a half-mile radius as wiped out of existence.

The first shot of a global war had just been fired.


	20. Chapter 20 – Reaching Ground Zero

**Chapter 20 – Reaching Ground Zero**

AN

Well, didn't that last chapter throw the Kneazle amongst the pigeons? Actually, I got a lot less abuse than I was expecting, although the number of reviews was incredible. I must stress, however, that I didn't nuke Hogwarts just for shock value. This is a vital element to the plot.

WARNING – character deaths occur in this chapter. There, I thought I'd get that out of the way early. Yes, on top of everything, Harry and the gang are going to have more pain and suffering dumped on them. I realise this might be the breaking point for some readers out there, but I can tell you that this chapter marks the low point for our heroes, and the fight back will start from here.

I wrote the last part of this chapter at a time when the British government had just authorised air strikes in Syria. Although I firmly believe that HP fan fiction isn't the place to start making political statements, hopefully what I've written will serve as a reminder that it's all very well having these hi-tec bomber aircraft and drones, but unless you have accurate human intelligence on the ground, that building you've just dropped a bomb on is just as likely to contain a mother and her children as it is a terrorist. The real world isn't a computer game.

Huge thanks to Arnel, for not only doing me the honour of deliberately misquoting Hermione at me, but also again correcting me when I get the layout of the Ministry building completely messed up. I promise next time to remember that the bloody Atrium is on the eighth level, not the first!

* * *

Jane Granger lounged on the sofa, feeling rather slothful. It had been a hard day and she'd had to suffer the joys of having to perform extractions on two different children, both of whom had been in tears before she'd even started. Her husband, John, had also had a pretty rough day, so they'd agreed on a Chinese takeaway for dinner, and he was currently in the kitchen selecting a suitable bottle of wine to wash it down.

She leafed through that morning's copy of The Guardian newspaper, but her eyes really didn't take anything in. Likewise, the television was droning away in front of her but she wasn't paying attention. Normally, the celebrity cooking show that was on was one of her favourite programs, but tonight she couldn't be bothered with it. She was just about to loudly enquire if John was crushing the grapes of their wine himself, when the screen of the TV went suddenly blank.

"We interrupt your scheduled program to bring you an urgent newsflash," the announcer's voice said ominously. "Please stand by for the Prime Minister."

Jane dropped her paper and sat up attentively. In this day and age, newsflashes were a pretty rare occurrence and she was intrigued as to what had caused it. A moment later, the black screen was replaced by the grim face of the Prime Minister. He was sitting in some non-descript office, which she assumed was Number Ten, Downing Street.

"My fellow citizens, I address you tonight on a matter of the greatest urgency," he began, his voice dripping in gravitas. "This morning, at approximately 10.30am, a nuclear device detonated in a remote Scottish valley, some thirty miles north-west of Invermoriston. The device was, fortunately, of a low yield and prevailing wind conditions have done much to minimise the dangers of fallout to neighbouring areas. Nevertheless, I cannot over emphasise the shock and horror I'm feeling at the idea of a nuclear bomb being set off on British soil."

"John! Get in here – now!" Jane screamed.

"Although details are sketchy at present and the situation has been made more confused by the remoteness of the location, we are certain that the explosion is the work of a previously well-hidden terrorist group that have been operational not only here in the UK, but globally for many years," the Prime Minister continued as John Granger hurried into the room, a bottle of red wine still clutched in his hand.

"This terrorist network, which at present has no unifying name, represent a secret society that claims to trace its roots back to the Romans and beyond. They believe themselves to be an elitist group that base their superiority on bloodlines and esoteric knowledge. While this group, and many like it worldwide, have been inactive for long periods, they have recently become more aggressive and have perpetrated many despicable acts over the last fifty years, the details of which are only now emerging. For instance, we now have evidence that the German wing of this group were heavily involved in the rise of Nazism in the thirties and aided Adolf Hitler's rise to power. More recently, I can confirm that the disaster at the village of Williton in Devon was not, as we first believed, a result of a chemical fire, but a deliberate act of terrorism carried out by this group. Similar tragedies have occurred in such far ranging places as Brazil and West Africa."

"I don't believe this," John gasped but his wife waved him into silence.

"We now face the most concerted and dangerous threat to humanity that this planet has ever faced, and I am not exaggerating when I say this in the slightest," the P.M. announced sternly. "We are facing a global threat to security which crosses all political and religious boundaries. In China, they have been waging war against this group since the forties, but only now has it become apparent that this is a world-wide problem. This is why in a secret meeting I attended with over fifty world leaders on Tuesday, it was agreed that there would be a universal crack-down on this group and action would be taken across all four corners of the globe."

Jane stared at the screen in disbelief. How could this group have become so prevalent yet remained totally secret?

"With this in mind, British security forces moved into position this morning to conduct a major raid on the secret stronghold of this group in the highlands of Scotland. The group, however, seem to have become aware of our forces gathering and, rather than risk capture, chose to detonate a nuclear bomb, destroying themselves totally. Why the group had this device and to what purpose they intended to put, we have no idea. Obviously, this emphasises the threat these people pose to the rest of us."

"Sweet Jesus," Jane breathed.

"It is for this reason that I must now declare a state of National Emergence, and I can confirm that the Queen has authorised the full mobilisation of all branches of the British Military. Similar measures are being taken across the globe and, even as I speak, a major attack is being launched by American forces on strongholds across their country. The Russians already began to take action several hours ago."

"A global war!" John exclaimed in disbelief.

"Now, I'm sure you all have many questions regarding these mysterious terrorists. Who are they? How did they remain hidden for so long? What are their goals? Well, there is little I can tell you at the moment for security reasons, but I can say that the group have been aided by extremely advanced technology which has helped them remain hidden and provided them with fearsome weapons. This technology is so advanced, in fact, that the effects have been described to me as appearing almost to be magic."

Jane suddenly went cold. A secret base in Scotland? Weapons that appeared to be magic? It couldn't be, could it?

"No," John gasped, clearly thinking on the same lines. "They were supposed to be part of the government. They had their own Ministry, for God's sake!"

"Hermione said they'd been fighting a civil war," Jane pointed out.

"She also said that the good guys won!" John retorted.

Jane paused for a second, trying to get her head around the whole idea. She and her daughter had been drifting further and further apart ever since Hermione had started attending that blasted magical school. Who knows what she believed in these days? Heaven knows, Jane just couldn't seem to talk with her daughter anymore. Their last conversation just a few days ago had resulted in Hermione immediately packing her things and storming out of the house.

"Perhaps her concept of who the good guys are has changed," Jane said eventually.

For a second, her husband looked at her in horror, before his face hardened.

"We should never have let her attend that bloody school," he replied.

Jane nodded. Who knows what her daughter had been turned into at that place?

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Harry wrapped his arms a little tighter around Ginny and breathed in the scent of her hair. Across from him, Hermione leant against Ron with her head on his chest. Ron, like himself, had his back to a tree and looked peaceful.

The four of them had come up here supposedly to play Quidditch, but when they reached the cluster of trees overlooking the Burrow none of them had the desire anymore. Instead, they had all sat down and decided to enjoy the warm weather.

Looking over, it looked as if Hermione was starting to doze. He was slightly surprised she was still here, as she'd originally intended to return home to spend time with her parents after Fred and Percy's funeral, but she'd returned after only a few hours stating she'd 'fallen out' with her family. Despite their best efforts, they'd been unable to get Hermione to discuss it further and had tactfully decided to let them matter drop, although Harry could tell Ron was worried about his girlfriend.

"Hello, everyone!" a bright voice called out, rousing them all from their daydreams. Harry turned his head and saw Luna standing there.

"Hi, Luna. You alright?" he asked in greeting.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," she replied, sitting herself down on the grass between the two couples. "Daddy is feeling a lot better now and has even started writing again. It's a big relief. Mrs Weasley told me you were all up here, and I must say, she's looking a lot happier."

"I think she puts on a front for the rest of us," Ginny said sadly.

A silence descended after that as everyone became lost in their own thoughts. As much to break the awkward hush, Harry addressed Luna.

"So, is Neville likely to grace us with a visit?" he asked.

"Oh, no, I think he's taken Hannah out to lunch at Diagon Alley," Luna replied.

Harry instantly looked over at Ron, who looked equally mystified. Silently, the two of them reached an unspoken agreement to let the matter drop, but neither of them counted on Hermione.

"He's taking Hannah out? And you're alright with this, are you?" she demanded.

"Of course, it took me long enough to get them together, after all," Luna smiled. "Really, all Neville needed to do was believe in himself. He was a far better match for Hannah than Ernie ever was."

"Was this your agenda from the beginning?" Hermione asked in surprise. "I mean, when you… umm… did all those…err… things with Neville. Were you just trying to boost his confidence with girls?"

"Mainly, although I did have a lot of fun doing it," Luna said, chortling softly, before her face became serious again. "I have to confess, I'm very glad he's with Hannah now, though. To be brutally honest, he was starting to bore me. All he ever did was talk about plants."

Harry couldn't help it, he burst out laughing, which earned him a slap on the leg from Ginny and a stern glare from Hermione.

"So, are there any other boys you're interested in now Neville's out of the picture?" Ginny asked her friend.

"Well, Harry is very nice, but I suppose he's taken, isn't he? Let me know if you get bored, Ginny, and I'll take him off your hands."

"Umm, okay," Ginny replied hesitantly.

"Ron's not bad, either," Luna continued, turning towards Hermione. "He's been a lot nicer since he started going out with you. Frankly, he was a bit of an idiot before. I guess he'd do, too."

"Oi, I was not an idiot," Ron protested.

"Yes, you were," said Hermione, Ginny and Harry at the same time.

Ron pouted.

"Well, if Luna here is finished winding everybody up, I think it must nearly be lunch time," Ginny noted. "That will put a smile back on your face, eh, Ron?"

"Suppose," he grumbled, to everyone's amusement.

"Luna, you will stay for…" Ginny continued before a shout cut her off. They looked round to see Mrs Weasley running up the path at a speed Harry would never have believed the woman was capable of. She reached them and stopped, panting.

"What's the matter, Mum?" Ron asked in alarm.

"The Muggles!" she exclaimed between breaths. "They've gone mad! They're attacking us everywhere! There are soldiers outside Diagon Alley shooting anyone who tries to come out!"

"Neville!" Luna cried and leapt to her feet, closely followed by the rest of them.

As the group hurried down the hill back towards the Burrow, Harry tried to make sense of Mrs Weasley's words. The Muggles attacking? What the hell was going on?

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"They just opened fire without warning. A group of witches had just left the Leaky Cauldron and they were just cut down. It was awful!"

A visibly shaken Neville sat at the kitchen table of the Burrow cradling a cup of hot, sweet tea in his hands. Next to him, Hannah Abbott looked to be close to tears. Knowing that his Gran was at the Ministry for a meeting, he'd Apparated himself and his new girlfriend here seeking help.

"This is insane! It must be some sort of misunderstanding," Hermione muttered in disbelief.

"Dunno, they seemed pretty enthusiastic about it," Neville said sourly. "They had these tube things which they fired from their shoulders. They shot out these big rockets which blew open the front of the Leakey. Once that happened, the soldiers could get inside. Fortunately, we managed to close the wall and stop them getting into the Alley itself. I'm not sure how long it will hold, though."

"How can they even see the Leaky?" Ginny demanded to know. "No Muggle should be able to see it."

"Someone must have told them what to look for. After that, they could just shoot blindly until they demolished the pub. I doubt the magical protections would have held up after that," Hermione said.

"We managed to evacuate the Alley, though," Neville continued. "Most people either Apparated out or used the Floo."

"But why is this happening? What purpose could they have?" Harry demanded.

At that moment, the Floo flared into life and a harassed Arthur Weasley stepped out.

"Oh, thank Merlin, you're all here!" he exclaimed as soon as he saw them. "The Ministry building has been attacked! By Muggles, no less!"

"What? How?" Molly demanded.

"They just blew a bloody great hole in the upper level," Arthur explained, collapsing into a nearby chair. "One moment, we were all working away as normal, the next thing we know is the whole building is shaking like it's going to collapse around our ears. Next, the screaming starts and we could hear gunfire. A few Ministry staff managed to make it down from the upper level and they reported that hundreds of Muggle soldiers were swarming in, shooting anyone in their way. Apparently, even those that tried to surrender were killed."

"The same thing happened at Diagon Alley, although they couldn't get passed the wall at the back of the Leaky Caldron," Neville supplied. "Mr Weasley, did you see my Gran, at all? There was a meeting of the Wizengamot being held."

"She should be alright, Neville," Arthur said, smiling reassuringly. "The Wizengamot were all evacuated. In fact, only those people on level one were hurt. Once we realised what was happening, we disabled the lifts. They're trying to blast their way down to level two, though. We could hear the explosions. That's when Kingsley decided to start the evacuation. Oh, we should pop the radio on. They said they'd try and make an announcement when they figured what the hell is going on."

Molly leapt up and switched on the radio, but only a weird static could be heard.

"The wireless station is in Diagon Alley, remember," Luna said grimly.

"Arthur, have you any idea why this is all happening? Why are the Muggles attacking us?" Molly asked in a pleading voice.

"I've no idea," he said sadly, "but I think Kingsley is trying to sort it out."

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"Urgent meeting requested! Priority one! Urgent meeting requested!"

The Prime Minister looked up at the portrait of the wigged man sternly. He'd been expecting this. He pressed a button on the underside of his desk and sat up straight in his seat.

"Yes, yes; no need to shout," he said irritably. "Send him in."

A moment later, an angry looking Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped out of the fireplace and stomped over to the P.M.s desk.

"Prime Minister, what in Merlin's name is going on? Soldiers are attacking witches and wizards without provocation! Why is this happening?" he yelled.

"Lower your voice, Shacklebolt," the P.M. replied coldly, "it's hardly without provocation, is it? What about all those poor people killed in Devon recently? Or those that were on that train when the bridge collapsed? Or any other of the dozens of incidents that have occurred in recent months?"

"But those were all the work of Voldemort! He's gone - him and his followers! We've taken care of him," Kingsley protested.

"Really? And what happens when the next Dark Lord rises and decides to start killing normal people at will? Because as far as I can tell, these characters seem to pop up with alarming regularity!"

"Nonsense! Voldemort was a one-off," Kingsley snapped.

"Oh, was he? Because his type actually seems to be quite common to me. Would you like to explain what occurred in Brazil a few years back? Or why huge swaths of Africa were plunged into conflict last year? While you're at it, perhaps you'd like to tell me exactly how World War Two started?"

"How did you…?" Kingsley spluttered before he could stop himself.

"As I thought," the Prime Minister nodded with satisfaction. "You blasted wizards have been in killing and maiming with impunity for centuries! Well, we're not going to stand for it any longer. Across the globe, nations are uniting to stamp out your kind and make the world a safer place. You and your type, Shacklebolt, are a danger to humanity and will be dealt with as such. Now, Jonathan!"

A loud crack sounded and Kingsley jerked. Two more cracks followed and a shocked-looking Shacklebolt slumped to the ground having never seen the P.M.s personal body guard slip into the room and aim a pistol at his back.

The P.M. stood and walked around his desk, eyeing the big man's body with distaste. Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement, and was just in time to see the figure of the wigged man vanish from the painting.

"Get this body moved, and then get that blasted painting down. The fireplace, too. Take the whole wall down if you have to."

"Right away, sir!" the man said smartly.

Turning his back on the corpse, the Prime Minister smiled. Things were going well.

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"Let's make a start," the Prime Minister called out.

Jeff Mayer looked around the crowded room. Unlike previous briefings, this one was attended mainly by men in uniforms, as befitting the state of war they were now in. A truly global war, at that.

"Status at oh-nine-thirty, Zulu time," a young officer wearing a Royal Airforce uniform began. "Significant actions: Target Alpha, that's the large complex sited in Scotland, has been completely destroyed. Air reconnaissance has shown that an area of around two kilometres around the detonation point has been totally destroyed. A large structure, apparently some sort of medieval castle, is now visible and has suffered around eighty per cent damage. It's possible there are some survivors inside the building, but they would probably have suffered lethal doses of radiation by now. In any event, we can consider Target Alpha completely neutralised."

"What are the dangers of fallout effecting the surrounding area?" the P.M. asked.

"Minimal. We were lucky with the weather conditions and the geography of the area," a man in Air Vice-Marshall's uniform replied. "The surrounding hills contained the blast, much as happened at Nagasaki back in '45, actually. The wind was in our favour, too, and prevented much spread of radioactive fallout. The whole area will have to be cordoned off for many years, of course, but the operation couldn't have gone much better, otherwise."

"We had more problems at Targets Beta and Gamma," the officer delivering the briefing continued. "Beta, the site off Kings Cross road, proved very hard to enter. The public house used as a front was destroyed easily, but behind it we found a wall that resisted all attempts at entry. In the end, we had to bring in engineers to blast it apart. Once past that, we found a large commercial site that was pretty much deserted. One building, however, was defended vigorously, and this was identified as 'Gringotts', their main bank. Creatures we now know are called goblins attacked our forward troops savagely and a pitched battle occurred. In fact, we had to bring in reinforcements and the 2nd Battalion, The Parachute Regiment were committed. They managed to kill all the goblins we faced and break into the bank, but once in we discovered a massive network of tunnels and underground caverns. The whole place is huge, and we plan to use the whole of 5 Airborne Brigade to clear it. That operation is ongoing."

"And this complex is right underneath London?" an Admiral asked.

"Yes, sir. Current estimates suggest the caverns are approximately a kilometre and a half down, making them some of the deepest caves in the world. We're not sure how far they extend out to, yet."

"Remarkable," the Admiral muttered.

"We also encountered a quite astonishing and dangerous creature in the caves: a real dragon. We'd been warned these existed and, in fact, a number have already been destroyed in Rumania. Those dragons were airborne but proved vulnerable to heat-seeking missiles. This dragon was kept in large room to apparently guard the bank's vaults. The paras had to use anti-tank missiles to kill it."

"Sweet Jesus," somebody exclaimed.

"Target Gamma was the other London site, beneath Whitehall. Again, entry was initially fairly straightforward and we caught the Magicals by surprise. We have a confirmed body count of twenty-nine, so far. Unfortunately, the complex is built underground and the various levels are connected by a series of lifts, all of which were disabled. Again, engineers are having to blast their way down and last night we entered the third level."

"What of the actual Magicals?" Mayer interrupted. "We've been told that they're lethal with those damn wands of theirs. How are the army coping?"

"So far, we've suffered fifty-nine killed in action, mainly in the assault on the bank. Our troops quickly learnt that concentrated automatic fire is the best way to deal with them, as they seem to be able to deflect single shots. The trick is not to let them get too close, as our weapons seem to outrange theirs. Thermal imaging equipment has been invaluable, too, as they appear to have a way to make themselves invisible to the naked eye, but not to mask their body heat. We've taken down a lot of them when they thought they were safe."

"What's the international situation looking like?" the P.M. asked.

"A bit of a mixed bag, sir. A second nuclear detonation occurred yesterday in a remote area in Northern Norway, close to the border with Sweden. This was the area identified as one of the Magicals major European training grounds. Official, it's being spun in the same way as here in the UK; that the terrorist blew themselves up rather than risk capture. In truth, NORAD tracked a missile launch from inside Russia."

"Nice of the bastards to warn us," growled a general.

"All European countries have now commenced military action, with the Russians being far the most aggressive and, as far as we can tell, successful. They have been keeping tabs on Magicals for years, apparently, and were ready to strike. The French are having the most problems, mainly due to their reluctance to inflict any collateral damage. Large numbers of Magicals managed to evade their troops when they attacked and there's now a real battle going on in various parts of the country."

"The rest of the world?" Mayer pressed, keen to hear about his own country.

"The battle is going well in America," the officer confirmed. "Although President Clinton refused to allow nuclear weapons to be used, the US military has been completely mobilised and have brought tremendous firepower to bear. The main site in Salem has been surrounded by two Regular and one National Guard divisions, and has been subject to continuous air and artillery strikes over the last forty-eight hours. The Marines have overrun the large settlement in New Orleans, too. The whole of South America have risen to the task well, no doubt spurred on by events in Brazil a few years back. Africa has turned into one big witch-hunt, too. In Sierra Leone, for instance, there are reports of mass graves containing over three hundred Magicals. The entire region is pretty much the same."

"Excellent!" Mayer exclaimed. "Are there any major problems anywhere else?"

"Yes, India. They were very reluctant to take action in the first place, and appear to have only started operations in a half-hearted manner. In fact, Magicals from surround countries have begun to try and seek refuge there."

"We'll head that off quickly," Mayer snarled. "I'm sure the President will address the matter; the Chinese and Russians, too. There's no way India will stand alone in this."

"What's next on the agenda here in the UK?" the Deputy Prime Minister asked.

"We now start phase two of operations, sir," the officer explained. "Phase one was designed to take out the large sites, now we start going after the smaller ones and individual settlements. We've relied on satellite intelligence mainly, comparing areas with heat readings but no electrical activity. We've then checked the sites using human assets. Of course, most of these places look completely empty until you've scanned them for a heat signature. We've currently got a list of nearly two hundred and fifty potential targets."

"Excellent. How do you intend to deal with them?"

"Where possible, we'll simply bomb them from the air. A lot of them are in remote rural locations which can be targeted by smart bombs easily. For targets in urban areas, we'll have to mount ground assaults, even if we'll be shooting blind in most cases. We're also getting quite a lot of human intelligence, as well. Following the P.M.'s television broadcast, a surprising number of people have come forward with information. The Magicals have made a lot of enemies."

"Great work!" Mayer crowed.

"Indeed, this is going better than I hoped," the P.M. smiled. "You know, this really could herald a new world order. For the first time, all nations are working together towards a common goal. This could change everything."

"A new world order," Mayer repeated, liking the sound of it.

"Press on with phase two," the P.M. announced, "and keep me informed."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry stood on the hill and looked in disbelief over at the scene in the far distance. Hogwarts, the only place he'd ever really called home, was a burnt, twisted ruin. Only part of the main structure remained upright, along with a solitary tower which stood like a broken, crooked tooth jutting against the far skyline. The Forbidden Forrest was now just a scorched, black mark on the ground, its trees nothing more than ash. It was all he could do to stop the tears.

"Are you sure this is as close as we can get?" Ron asked in a stunned voice.

"Yes, in fact, we shouldn't even stay here too long," Hermione replied.

"It's gone. It's all just… gone," Luna said in a broken voice.

"Were there no survivors?" Harry asked plaintively.

Arthur walked up to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"No, Harry, not as far as we can tell. Everyone who was in Hogsmeade and the castle died within an instant. We know that the teaching staff were all attending a meeting on how to deal with the term ending early, as several Ministry officials had to attend. Thank Godric the school did break up early or all of the pupils would have been there when it happened."

"We would have been there, too," Ron muttered darkly.

"But how did they even know it was here?" Luna demanded. "The castle and village are meant to be hidden from the Muggles."

"Technology is improving at a frightening rate," Hermione explained. "It was only a matter of time before they started to notice us."

"But why attack us? We don't mean any harm to them?" Neville protested.

"Don't we, Neville?" Arthur asked sadly. "Do you really think they differentiate between us and Voldemort's followers? To them, we're just a bunch of witches and wizards, some of whom have perpetrated terrible acts of violence against them. This is the Dark Lord's legacy: he's managed to make the Muggles hate us all."

"We have to talk to them, to convince them that we're not all the same!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Kingsley tried that, remember," Arthur replied with an edge to his voice. "They shot him down without warning."

"I can't believe they did that," Hermione moaned.

"The portrait in the Muggle Prime Minister's office saw the whole thing. He confirmed that they know all about Grindelwald and various other conflicts over the years. How will it look to them? Millions of people have died due to wars started by wizards, and I can understand how they want to lump us all in together."

"Tom Riddle was educated at Hogwarts, after all," Harry agreed. "He was no different to any of us in the early days."

"Who is in charge now Shacklebolt is gone?" Neville asked.

"No one, at the moment," Arthur replied. "The Ministry have evacuated to a large house owned by Russell Fawley, a senior member of the Wizengamot. Currently, they've formed an emergency committee which is running things. Well, running things as much as they can, that is. Things are a bit confused, as you can imagined."

"I think we've been here long enough," Hermione announced suddenly. "I think we should go now."

"Yeah, I'm ready to leave anyway," Harry agreed, taking one last sad look back at Hogwarts. "Guys, can we all head back to Grimmauld Place? I think we need to sit down and talk about what we do next."

"Yes, that seems a good idea, Harry," Arthur nodded. "Molly will be alright back at the Burrow for an hour or two. Charlie and George are with her, after all."

"Good, umm, Ginny? Walk with me, a bit," Harry said.

Ginny looked up in surprise. She'd been increasingly quiet ever since the funerals of her brothers, but since the Muggle attacks had started she'd barely said a word. Harry noticed the others looking at him sympathetically before they began to Disapparate, one by one. Soon, the two of them were alone.

"What do you want, Harry?" Ginny asked wearily as she started to walk back down the hill.

"I'm worried about you," Harry said in a soft voice. "You've barely said a word to me in days."

"What do you want me to say? Less than a week ago I watched two of my brothers being buried, and now my whole world has been turned upside down and we're all at risk. Forgive me if I'm not in the mood for a nice, little chat!"

"Ginny, I…" he began.

"Do you want to know what I'm feeling right now?" she snapped, cutting him off. "Right now I feel angry! We risked our lived to defeat Voldemort and his followers, and poor Percy and Fred died doing it. We could have stood back and let Tom just get on with slaughtering Muggles, but we didn't. And how do they thank us? They kill hundreds, if not thousands of us! What kind of machine did this, Harry? What sort of monsters build something that can wipe out a whole town just like that? There were old people and small children in Hogsmeade; what threat were they to the bloody Muggles?"

"All war is stupid, Ginny. The Muggles don't have magic, so they build these terrible bombs that are indiscriminate in who they kill," Harry pointed out weakly.

"It's not right! If I'd known the Muggles were capable of doing this, I'd… I'd bloody helped Tom, not fought him!" she yelled.

"Riddle wanted to rule both the Wizarding world and the Muggle one. To achieve that he would have had to kill me. Would you have helped him do that, Ginny?"

"Don't be stupid! Of course I wouldn't!" she screamed at him. "That doesn't mean that I'm not coming round to his way of thinking about Muggles. Hell, why are you even defending them? Look at your aunt and uncle; they were pure scum."

"True, but not every Muggle is like that. I'm sure most of them are only going along with this because of what they've been told by the government. They have no idea what we sacrificed to defeat Voldemort. All they know is that some secretive magical race slaughtered hundreds of people in Devon and loads of other places. Think about it. They've just learnt that World War Two was started by a wizard! They must hate us."

"Yeah, well, at the moment I hate them right back," Ginny said sullenly.

"I know," he said sympathetically, "but we still need to decide how we're going to stop this madness. We need to figure out how to start some kind of dialog with the Muggles and convince them we're not a threat. Maybe the International Confederation of Wizards can do something."

"Maybe," she replied darkly.

Harry gently put his hand on her arm and made her turn and look at him. She initially gave him a defiant stare before her lips began to tremble. A second later, she broke down and flung herself at him.

"Oh, Harry! Please don't be angry at me because I feel like this," she sobbed. "I can't help it! I feel like my whole life has been ruined by this."

"We'll sort this out," he promised. "I'll do whatever it takes. All I ask is that you stay by my side. I can't do it without you."

"Always," she said, forcing a smile.

Gently, he kissed her and wiped away her tears, completely unaware of events that were happing at the other end of the country that would change his opinion for ever.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Dean Thomas stared out of the window of his family's small flat in Catford. He'd always been proud to be both a wizard and a South London boy, but at that exact moment he wasn't quite sure how to define himself.

"Here," his mother practically spat, thumping a mug of tea down in front of him. He smiled weakly at her, not wanting to start another fight.

Truthfully, he was feeling rather confused at the moment. Things hadn't been going well for him for a while now, and his situation only seemed to be getting worse. How quickly things change.

He decided that it had all started when he'd received that letter from Ginny, telling him that she'd changed her mind about going out with him. It had come as a cruel blow, as he'd really been excited about starting a relationship with her. She was, after all, bloody gorgeous. When he'd learnt that she'd blown him off for Harry Potter, his supposed mate, he'd see red. Unfortunately, Ginny had been a complete bitch about the whole thing and Harry had hospitalised him when he'd complained. So, reluctantly, Dean had swallowed his pride and let the matter drop. He'd even started going out with another girl, Lavender, although she could be a bit annoying at times, even if she was well fit.

Gradually, however, Dean had started to revaluate whether missing out on Ginny had been a bad thing. He'd rather dismissed all the talk of what had happened at the Ministry last year, but weird things kept happening around Potter and his little band, which made him start to wonder. When Hogsmeade was attacked by Death Eaters and Harry and his friends, including Ginny, killed a number of them, he started to believe he was well out of things.

Actually, bodies were starting to pile up at an alarming rate last term. First, someone had poisoned Professor Slughorn, and then Dumbledore had died. Dean had actually been rather relieved when the school year finished early and they were sent home, not least as he hadn't really studied as hard as he could have done and hadn't been looking forward to his exams. Then, of course, word of the battle that had occurred at Hogwarts reached his ears. Harry and Ginny had apparently faced down You-know-Who, and won! What the hell had the young redhead girl got herself into? Nah, he was well out of it with that one.

Now, he was starting to wonder what exactly had been going on this year. He'd only been home a week when the Prime Minister appeared on telly talking about sinister terrorist groups and nuclear bombs going off. Although he hadn't been very explicit about it, it was clear the man had been talking about witches and wizards. Unfortunately, his mum had picked up on that fact, too.

From that moment on, she'd been bending his ear, demanding to know what had been going on. Dean had never been able to lie to his mother, and he'd soon blabbed everything he knew. He explained about You-Know-Who and all the mysterious deaths that had occurred that year. Although he knew nothing about wizards starting the last World War, he admitted that the massacre in Devon had probably been the work of Dark wizards. Needless to say, his mum had been horrified.

She'd flatly told him he'd never be going back to Hogwarts, which he'd mildly pointed out didn't sound like an option now, anyway. He's put his foot down when she'd said he could never see his friends again, though. Seamus was his best mate and there was no way he was just going to shut his friend out of his life. He'd been getting on pretty well with Lavender, too, and that was another relationship he wasn't prepared to just abandon. His mum had taken this rather badly, however, and there had been a number of loud and bitter rows.

The trouble was, he could actually see her point of view. What if what the Prime Minister said was true? The papers had been full of stories about the atrocities that witches and wizards had committed, even if they didn't use that term. He did notice that several papers had started calling the terrorist group 'Magicals' apparently due to their hi-tech equipment that made it look like they were performing magic. The irony was murderous…

A loud knock at the door roused him from his thoughts. He was about to stand and answer it when his mother waved him down.

"I'll get it," she snapped. "It might be some of your messed-up friends. I'm not having them in this house, do you hear?"

"Mum!" Dean moaned, but stayed seated. He did listen intently, though, trying to pick out Seamus's thick Irish accent, or Lavender's breathless chatter.

"Mrs Thomas?" a deep voice asked as soon as he heard the door open. It was not a voice he knew. Probably someone come to read the gas meter.

"Yes," he heard his mother reply, and the note of concern in her voice made him frown.

"We have a warrant to search this premises. Please stand aside," the male voice announced.

Dean was on his feet just in time to see a large policeman wearing a Metropolitan Police stab vest come charging through the kitchen door. Almost automatically, he reached for the wand in his back pocket. The man was quicker, though, and a second later Dean found himself flat on his back, unable to move.

"In here!" the policeman yelled and a moment later more uniformed officers hurried into the tiny kitchen. Dean found himself flipped over onto his front and handcuffs snapped around his wrists.

"What are you doing?" he heard his mother scream.

"Your son is suspected of being involved in a terrorist plot against the United Kingdom government," an authoritative voice declared. "Tell me, Mrs Thomas, where does your son go to school?"

"Why does that matter?" Mrs Thomas demanded, a bit too quickly. Even Dean could hear the guilt in her voice. He grunted as a pair of non-too gentle hands slapped him down. Dean froze with horror has the hands located his wand which had been in his back pocket.

"We've got a weapon!" a voice shouted near his ear, and Dean ground his teeth.

"He's a good boy! He's never been involved in any of that stuff they talked about on the telly!" his mother yelled.

There was no reply, and a moment later Dean felt himself hauled to his feet. He was shoved forward, his shoulder hitting the door frame of the kitchen on the way, and he was dragged out of the flat with his mother's voice wailing behind him. The flat was on the third floor of the block, and he was roughly manhandled down the stairs and practically thrown into a waiting police van. Two officers, a man and a woman, entered with him and secured his cuffs to a rail fitted for exactly that purpose. Now the shock was starting to fade, Dean began to feel fear.

"Where are you taking me?" he demanded.

"Oh, don't worry about it, sonny," the male officer growled. "We know a place where they can take care of bastards like you."

Dean could only stare at the man in horror.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The Tornado GR.1 jet took off from Marham in Norfolk and rapidly climbed to an altitude of ten thousand feet, heading in a westerly direction. Beneath its fuselage were slung a pair of one thousand pound laser guided bombs.

The pilot had flown in the Gulf War some five years earlier and was confident he knew what he was doing, even if his weapons operator was fairly green. Even so, this should be a straightforward mission and he didn't envisage any problems. His navigation computer had the exact grid reference of his target and the laser designator pod was working perfectly. Ground forces had even marked the target with an infrared beacon to make things easier. The only worries he had were about the proximity of a small village near the target, but he was confident that it was far enough away so it wouldn't suffer any damage.

He peered out of the cockpit with a steely determination. His father had fought in World War Two, and his grandmother had been killed in an air raid during the war. It was time to get some justice for them.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Mum, where are you?" Charlie called out.

"Out here, Charlie," she called.

Passing through the open back door, he found her hanging up clothes in the back garden. He watched her sadly. She really was only carrying on through her own strength of will, and seemed likely just to collapse in a sobbing heap at any moment.

"Is he asleep?" she asked, still placing pegs over the sheets to secure them on the line.

"Yeah, he dropped off about ten minutes ago. I stayed a while just to make sure he didn't wake up again."

George had been in a pretty bad way ever since his twin had died. He'd passed through stages of sullen grief to ones of raging anger. They'd been forced to restrain him when he'd heard that a number of Death Eaters had been captured by the Ministry. He'd leapt up and started bellowing that he was going to kill them all. It had taken a Stunning Spell to subdue him in the end. Of course, that was before the Muggles had started attacking.

"He just needs time," Mrs Weasley said in a no-nonsense way, dropping her remaining pegs into a bag she wore around her waist. She bent down to pick up the empty clothes basket.

"How are you doing, Mum?" Charlie asked. With everything going on, he'd barely had a chance to talk to her in the last few days.

"I'm fine, dear," she replied dismissively. "I'm just worried about your father. All this nonsense with the Muggles has hit him hard, you know. We really didn't need this happening now."

"I don't think there is a good time for it to happen," Charlie pointed out sadly.

"Have you heard anything more from your friends at the reserve?" Molly asked.

"Nah, I can't contact them, at all. Apparently, it definitely has been attacked by the Muggles, but I've no idea what damage was caused. You know, just a week ago I would have said that the Muggles would have been committing suicide by attacking a dragon reserve, but I guess it just shows what I know."

"None of us knew they were capable of doing those awful things," she said with a shudder. "That terrible, terrible bomb that destroyed Hogsmeade. Monstrous! And killing poor Kingsley like that. He was such a kind and gentle man. I really don't know what's happening to the world."

"It seems like everyone's gone barmy," Charlie agreed.

"I don't know why they… what's that noise?" Molly said, looking up.

Charlie listened and heard it too. A distant roaring sound.

"There!" he said, pointing in the sky. "It's a Muggle aeroplane. They don't usually fly over this way."

"No, they don't," his mother replied with a frown. "It's heading this way, isn't it?"

"Yeah… I think we'd better get inside, Mum," Charlie said, squinting into the bright sky.

"Yes, I think you're right," she agreed, walking smartly back towards the house. "We have no idea how the Muggles are able to see us. We don't want to be spotted, do we?"

They hurried back into the Burrow and closed the door. Charlie hurried over to the window and looked out.

"It's definitely heading this way," he said.

"It's up too high to do anything, surely?" Molly said, coming over to join him.

"Yeah, I think… did something just fall off that plane?"

"Yes, I saw something, too! Charlie, I'm getting a bad feeling about this," she said in a worried tone.

"You know, I think we'd… shit! It's heading right for us! Get under cover!"

Charlie had just managed to drag his mother under the kitchen table when the first bomb hit. It exploded about twenty yards away from the house, hitting the chicken pen dead on. The force was sufficient to cave in the east facing wall of the house and send rubble blasting through the kitchen. The second bomb hit the Burrow near the second floor window, smashing through the wall and detonating inside. George, still asleep upstairs, never knew what hit him and he was blown to smithereens in an instant.

Realising the danger too late, Charlie lunged at his mother, intending to Apparate them both to safety, but he was too slow. The overpressure actually killed him before the blast, collapsing his lungs and crushing his skull in an instant. Molly died when pieces of her beloved cooker ripped into her back, piercing her heart. A moment later, the whole house collapsed, burying the bodies of the three Weasleys under a pile of rubble.

Overhead, the jet fighter banked and headed for home, secure in the knowledge their mission had been a success.


	21. Chapter 21 – The Gathering Storm

**Chapter 21 – The Gathering Storm**

AN

I've had a number of reviews from people who think that I've basically ignored what magic is capable of in the HP universe. Examples that have been put forward include the 'wards' (not a term JKR ever uses) around Hogwarts would have stopped the cruise missile working, to the idea that a handful of wizards could easily defeat the Muggles just by throwing a few Imperius Curses about. They then go on to list the effects of various spells and magical protections just to show how wrong I am. Unfortunately, almost none of these people have provided any canon evidence as to exactly why I'm wrong. In fact, 99% of what's being said appears to be personal interpretation.

Basically, JKR hasn't provided a huge amount of detail about the magic in her books and we know very little about the limitations of various spells, how exactly they are used, etc. A good example is making a property Unplottable. Now, it is stated that this will mean the property under the effect of the spell will not appear on any map, which various people have stated means the satellites couldn't detect any buildings or areas which had this cast on them. However, my argument is that the Muggles didn't detect any specific landmarks. They just identified areas which gave out a thermal reading, without any signs of electricity being present. That's what they identified, not an actual property, so it's irrelevant if they appear on a map. The Muggles are attacking grid squares, not marks on a map. Does this fit in with HP canon? Who knows! JKR never gave us enough information about the spell to say one way or the other. This is just my interpretation of it.

So, if anyone does feel the need to leave a review telling me I've got it all wrong, then they need to supply canon evidence. I'll accept references from the books, or quotes from HP Wiki, Lexicon, or Pottermore. If you don't provide evidence to support your ideas, I will ignore you. Also, remember that this story is being beta read by Arnel, who is VERY knowledgeable about the world of Harry Potter and would pick up any glaring errors I made, I'm sure. Now, on with the show!

* * *

"So, the citizens that have come forward have been providing useful intelligence, then?" Mayer asked the MI5 agent as they walked down a dim corridor in the bowels of Thames House.

"Indeed. Obviously, some are more useful than others, but we're definitely getting a lot of useful information," the man replied. "We called you here today as we have two couples here that I think will particularly interest you."

"Lead on," Mayer told him.

He was eventually led into a dark room with one wall made entirely of glass. Through it, he could see three separate interview rooms, two of which were occupied. Through the one-way mirror, he peered intently at the first couple. The man was obesely fat, but well dressed and respectable looking. The woman, in complete contrast, was as thin as a rake.

"Here we have Mr & Mrs Dursley," the MI5 man explained. "Mrs Dursley's maiden name was Evans, by the way, and she's the aunt of one of our most wanted terrorists: Harry Potter."

"Potter?" Mayer exclaimed. "She's his aunt? Is she a Magical?"

"Oh, no. In fact, they've both made it very clear that they hate magic. Mrs Dursley attended a regular school in the North of England while her sister, Potter's mother, went to that magical school we recently nuked. There was very little love lost between them."

"Really," Mayer noted with interest.

"It gets better. Potter's parents were killed during the magical war that ended in the early eighties, and he was sent to live with the Dursleys as his sole remaining relatives. They've talked a lot about 'disciplining' the boy and 'forcing' the magic out of him."

"Hmm, so Potter was abused as a child?" Mayer asked.

"It certainly sounds like it," the man confirmed. "From a physiological point of view, it creates an interesting profile of the young man. It would certainly explain his hatred of normal people and his propensity for violence."

"Most abused children don't have the power to kill with a wave of their hand, though, do they?" Mayer pointed out. "Still, you're right. It is interesting. Did they give us anything useful on Potter? Do they know where he is?"

"Sadly, no. Potter left their household last September and they weren't expecting him back. From what they've said, I doubt he would lift a finger to help them even if they were in danger, and he certainly wouldn't respond to any request for contact from them, even if they knew how to reach him. No, I actually think they are at risk from him."

"Shame," Mayer said in disappointment.

"Ah, well, maybe the next couple will be of more help in that regard. In interview room number two we have the Grangers. A respectable pair of dentists from Hampshire."

"And how can they help us?" Mayer asked, looking at the soberly dressed middle aged couple.

"The Grangers also have a child who attended Hogwarts: their daughter, Hermione. For some time they've been growing increasingly concerned about the behaviour of their daughter and her apparent change in personality. Previously, they describe Hermione as a bright, intelligent girl who was extremely responsible for her age. In recent years, they've noticed she's become more argumentative and reckless. They recently found out that she'd been involved in the fighting in the magical civil war, and she's resisted all attempts by them to persuade her to leave Hogwarts and attend a respectable school. They've blamed most of this on her best friend, whom she met at the school."

"Best friend?" Mayer asked with mounting excitement.

"Her best friend: Harry Potter."

"This is wonderful!" he exclaimed. "How is the Granger's relationship with their daughter at the moment? Would she come to them if they asked her to?"

"Yes, they're very confident that she would. In fact, she left them the very means to do so. An owl, would you believe. These people send messages via glorified carrier pigeons! All they ask is that their daughter isn't harmed, and that we help them convince her to turn her back on magic."

Mayer turned and looked at the Grangers gleefully. At last he had a means of flushing this dangerous young wizard out into the open.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Is Ginny asleep?" Hermione asked as Harry slipped into the kitchen.

"Yeah, she practically grabbed that Dreamless Sleep Potion from me. I think she just wants a few hours respite from her misery."

"Ron's about the same, although he was just sitting staring out the window for the longest time. I really didn't know what to say to him for the best."

"Just be there for him," Harry advised. "I'm sure he draws comfort from you just being near."

"I hope so," Hermione said in a worried tone. "I'm more worried about Mr Weasley, actually. He's been shut up in that room all day. I'm sure he took a few bottles of Firewhiskey in with him."

Harry nodded sadly. "He lived for his family. Now, he's lost four of his seven children in short order, and the woman he loved more than anything. I can't think of anything worse that could happen to the poor man."

"How about you, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Mrs Weasley was like a surrogate mother to you. How are you taking this?"

"Truthfully? Badly," he admitted. "I'm just so bloody… angry! Ginny was spitting blood after Hogsmeade was nuked, wanting to kill every Muggle she could lay her hands on. I was the one preaching restraint; that we had to negotiate with them. But look at things now. That air attack on the Burrow was just cowardly. They weren't given any option to surrender. They were just blown to hell without a second thought. I tell you, Hermione, I'm on the verge of starting a war the Muggles will never forget!"

"Would you turn into another Voldemort? Killing any Muggle that crosses your path, purely because they're different to you?" she challenged.

"Nah, I would kill them because they're doing their best to kill everyone I love," he spat back. "We didn't start this war, Hermione, and so far we've shown great restraint, but are we going to sit back and just let them pick us off one by one?"

"Are you so sure we didn't start this?" Hermione countered. "Those Muggles don't see any difference between us. We're just all magic users to them. Now they've found out about Grindelwald and Voldemort; well, I can almost understand their anger, if not their methods."

"But what can we…" Harry paused and tilted his head. "Did you hear something?"

"That was the front door, I think," Hermione frowned. "Come on, I think we'd better take a look."

They both hurried out of the kitchen to find the front door wide open. They peered out into the street just in time to see a tall, balding man stagger unsteadily across the road.

"Bugger, we'd better go get him," Harry exclaimed, leaping forward.

They both ran out of the house and across the road after Mr Weasley who, despite his drunken stagger, was moving quite rapidly. They had nearly reached him when he stopped suddenly and raised his wand.

"You bastards," he slurred. "You BASTARDS! I've bloody spent my life standing up for you lot, and what do you do? Kill my WIFE! Kill my SONS. BASTARDS!"

A Blasting Charm shot from the end of his wand and impacted on the house directly in front of them. There was a tremendous explosion, with dust and debris being throw into the night air.

"Mr Weasley! No!" Hermione cried and leapt forward to grab his wand arm. With surprising strength, he knocked her flying backwards and shot off another spell. Another house burst into flame.

Not wanting to hurt the man, Harry sent a silent Stunning Spell into his back. Arthur Weasley slumped to the ground instantly.

"Come on, Hermione. Let's get him back into the house. This is bound to bring police and troops down on us like a pack of dogs!"

Using a Levitation Charm, Hermione lifted Mr Weasley off the ground and hurried back to the safety of the house. Harry lingered, covering them as they ran, looking for the slightest sign of threats. He could hear shouting and a few distant screams, but no one seemed prepared to venture out into the street. Seeing Hermione had nearly reached the front door, Harry turned and ran. He sprinted into the house and slammed the door closed.

"I'll take him upstairs," Hermione said. "I think we should just let him sleep this off."

"Agreed," Harry replied wearily.

It was some minutes before Hermione returned. She looked extremely upset.

"I laid him out on the bed and placed a charm on the door to alert us if he tries to get out again," she said.

"Good thinking," Harry agreed.

"Harry, are we safe here now? I know the house has a Fidelius Charm on it, but it hasn't stopped the Muggles attacking other properties with it cast. Unfortunately, Mr Weasley has rather announced our presence here."

"I'm not sure, but I think so. From what we've heard, every house that has been attacked has been out in the countryside, not in cities. I think the Muggles just have a very general idea that a magical property is there, and that's why they have to bomb the whole area. In towns they seem more likely to try and storm properties owned by witches or wizards, and the Fidelius will prevent that."

"How are they doing it, then? Some sort of satellite surveillance?"

"I think it must be some sort of hi-tech gadget," he agreed. "I think we'd better go upstairs to the front reception room. We can watch the street from there," Harry decided.

"Good thinking," she agreed.

They went upstairs to the little-used room and peered through the window. Outside, they could see the first fire engine had arrived, and that was closely followed by a police car. People were now starting to spill out into the street, no doubt heartened by the presence of the emergency services.

They watched the street outside intently. The police were followed by ambulances, and a short while later an army truck pulled up and a section of heavily-armed troops leapt out. They started either pulling on strange goggle-type devices or peering through bulky sights mounted on their rifles.

"Harry, I think those are thermal imagining sights," Hermione announced, pointing at one of the soldiers who had dropped to one knee and was scanning the street through the large object. "That must be how they can detect wizards who have cast Disillusionment Charms!"

"Damn, that's a huge advantage for us gone," Harry grumbled.

"I was right: they must be using hi-tech equipment to detect us!"

"Can those things see through walls?" Harry asked warily.

"I have no idea."

They sat there for the next two hours, watching the activity in the street. Although there was a lot of commotion, no one seemed to give the house a second look. Even when the police started going door to door, they bypassed number twelve without a moment's hesitation. Eventually, things quietened down, although a number of policemen remained stationed outside the two ruined house.

"I think we're safe," Hermione said. "Do you think anyone was badly hurt? I didn't see them take anyone out on a stretcher."

"No, I didn't, either," Harry agreed. "Just as well. I don't think Mr Weasley would have lived with himself if he'd hurt someone badly."

"I'm not so sure. His opinion of Muggles seems to have changed a great deal recently," Hermione replied glumly. "God, I could do with a drink, myself."

Silently, Harry stood and walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle. He also grabbed two glasses and walked back to where his friend was sitting looking at him in surprise.

"Single malt whiskey. Muggle stuff. Sirius always said he preferred the taste of it," Harry noted.

He poured two large glasses of the amber liquid and handed one to Hermione. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of it, but she still took a large gulp of the stuff. Wheezing a little, she immediately refilled her glass. Harry followed her example.

The rest of the night passed quickly in a fog of alcoholic fumes. They awoke the next morning, fully clothed, on the sofa together. Both of them were hungover, and utterly miserable.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Later that morning, the occupants of Grimmauld Place gathered in the kitchen. Very little was said, and Mr Weasley seemed withdrawn and sullen. Despite what Hermione had said, Harry was surprised the man didn't seem terribly repentant about the events of the previous evening. Kreacher had laid on a hearty breakfast, but no one seemed to have much of an appetite. Even Ron just picked at his food as he conversed with Hermione in hushed tones.

The sombre meal was suddenly interrupted by an unexpected arrival through the Floo. The green flames subsided to reveal Luna stepping from the fireplace. A moment later, her father followed her through. Xeno Lovegood made straight for Arthur, ignoring everyone else in the room. He squatted beside Arthur's chair and laid a hand on his arm. For a moment Arthur looked confused, before tears began to fall down his cheek.

"They took my Molly, Xeno," he managed to splutter.

"I'm sorry, my friend. I know what it is to lose a wife," Xeno replied sympathetically.

The damn broke, and Mr Weasley collapsed into Xeno's arms, howling in despair. The white haired man just held his friend tightly but remaining silent. Perhaps he knew from cruel experience how meaningless words were at time like this.

"I think Arthur and I need to have a talk," Xeno said eventually as Arthur's sobbing started to lessen. "Mr Potter, is there a private space we can use?"

"Of course, Mr Lovegood," Harry said quickly. "Use the main drawing room. Upstairs and second on your right."

"Thank you."

Xeno then gently pulled Arthur to his feet and guided him out of the door. Everyone watched them go in silence.

"Daddy will help him," Luna said firmly. "He knows what it's like to lose the person you love more than anything."

"And you know what it's like to lose a mother, don't you?" Ginny said in a wavering voice.

"It does get better, Ginny," Luna told her, hurrying over to hug her friend. "The pain will lessen in time."

Ginny sniffed but managed to stop further tears falling. Harry suspected that she was more angry than anything, and wondered if she'd been awake the previous evening whether she'd have joined her father in his random attack on the Muggles.

"Oh, have you been listening to the wireless?" Luna asked after releasing her friend.

"No, we assumed no one would be broadcasting," Hermione admitted.

"Do you have a wireless set here? You should really turn it on. Someone's trying to contact you, Harry," Luna explained.

Sharing a suspicious look with his girlfriend, Harry ran upstairs and retrieved the radio from the room where it had been sitting unused. He carried it downstairs to the kitchen where he and his friends hurriedly set it up. Luna selected the right frequency, and soon a scratchy voice could be heard.

"Calling Harry Potter. Calling Harry Potter. This is the International Confederation of Wizards calling Harry Potter. Mr Potter, if you can hear this message, can you please contact the headquarters of the ICW in Strasbourg by any means available. This is most urgent! If anyone knows the location of Mr Potter, please pass this message on to him. Calling Harry Potter. Calling Harry Potter…"

"The ICW?" Harry exclaimed in surprise. "Why would they want to speak with me?"

"Dumbledore was Supreme Mugwump, remember," Luna pointed out. "I'm sure he would have told them about you and Ginny. With every witch and wizard in the world under attack, I'm sure they want to contact as many powerful people as they can."

Harry nodded. "I think it might be a good idea to talk with them, actually," he agreed. "Maybe they have a bloody clue what to do about all this."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It took two days for them to reach Strasbourg, and they wouldn't have made it without Fleur's local knowledge. The whole of France seemed to be in uproar with soldiers everywhere, and skirmishes with local witches and wizards commonplace.

The ICW's headquarters were actually just outside the city itself, and had been attacked by Muggle aircraft half a dozen times already. Fortunately, the main building was underground and the French Army had yet to penetrate the complex. It had made it extremely difficult to get in, however, and in the end they'd needed to Stun a number of soldiers and Imperius several more.

They'd been met by a distinguished German witch named Bauer who seemed extremely pleased to see them. She'd been especially glad of Mr Weasley's presence as they had apparently been having difficulties contacting members of the British Ministry. Arthur was rather shocked to find himself acting as temporary Minister for Magic in the absence of any higher ranking Ministry official.

The group were led into a large conference room already occupied by a diverse group of people dressed in a fabulous assortment of robes. They all shared the same haggard expressions on their faces, however.

Once Harry and his friends were introduced, an oriental-looking wizard who failed to give his name briefed them on the global situation.

"We are facing nothing less than a global war of extinction," he began. "Just over ten days ago, the Muggles, in a totally unprecedented move, united as one to attack wizards and witches in every corner of the globe. This included, as I'm sure you're aware, the detonation of three nuclear bombs; one in Britain which destroyed Hogwarts and the nearby village, one at the Durmstrang Institute and a third aimed at a large magical settlement in Brazil. There are no reports of survivors at any of these locations."

"Oh, God," Hermione whimpered.

"Elsewhere, attacks have been undertaken using normal Muggle weapons, but these have been just as effective in many places. The Muggles seem to know far more about us then we could have ever have suspected and have planned their attacks well. In Russia, for instance, we estimate that three quarters of the magical population have been killed and the rest are being hunted down like animals. The story is the same nearly everywhere. Even India, where they were reluctant to join in initially, has now begun a systematic campaign of eliminating every witch or wizard they can find. A surprising number of Muggleborns and Half-bloods have been betrayed by their own, non-magical, family members, such has been the effectiveness of the propaganda aimed at us."

"But why is this happening?" Bill Weasley demanded.

"It appears the Muggles are upset at the number of casualties they have suffered in the numerous magical civil wars that have occurred across the globe," a witch with an American accent explained. "Let's face it, every country with a sizable magical population has had some maniac claiming to be a Dark Lord starting a war over the last fifty years. Them finding out about Grindelwald and his activities during World War Two was the final straw. We're reaping what we've sowed, I'm afraid."

"Quite why this is happening now, we have no idea," the oriental wizard continued. "We can only assume the recent conflict in the British Isles pushed them over the edge. Lord Voldemort was particularly vicious when it came to his treatment of Muggles, and perhaps this has convinced them that we are a serious threat to their security. All attempts by the ICW to negotiate with the Muggle Governments have been rebuffed and several of our envoys were shot on sight."

"That happened to our last Minister for Magic," Arthur informed them solemnly.

"Ah, we suspected as much," the man nodded. "That's a great shame. I only met him once, but I thought highly of Kingsley."

"So, what are we going to do about this?" Harry demanded. "Are we going to just sit here and let them slaughter us?"

"No, and that's why we've been so keen to get you here," the man said firmly. "The previous Chief Mugwump, Albus Dumbledore, was lavish in his praise for you, Mr Potter, and made very clear to us that he expected you to replace him some time in the future. Unfortunately, circumstances have altered, somewhat, and we must now ask you to fulfil another role, that of leader of the British Resistance."

Harry said nothing but inwardly cringed. Why did people always feel the need to dump this crap on him?

"The only way we're going to get the Muggles to come to the negotiation table is for them to realise that they can't just wipe us off the face of the planet with impunity, and that we're a force to be reckoned with. They only way we're going to achieve that is by striking back."

"And just what will that entail?" Hermione asked. "Are you expecting us to just mindlessly kill men, women and children just like Voldemort would have done?"

"Absolutely not," the man replied, sounding offended. "We have drawn up a clear set of rules of engagement. Our primary priority is to attack the Muggle military. We'll need to take out their nuclear capability first, as this has proved the most dangerous. After that, we need to destroy their airplanes and artillery. If we can destroy a good proportion of their offensive capability, there's a decent chance we can get them to talk to us."

"How would we even know where to start?" Ron asked indignantly. "What do we know about the Muggles?"

"We can find out quite a lot from unclassified sources," Hermione argued. "I'll sure I can easily find a list of bases British bomber aircraft are flying from, for instance. Attacking their nuclear capabilities will be harder, though. Most of it is mounted in submarines."

"We may have allies and resources that can help us," the man informed her. "It's not just wizards and witches who are under threat. All magical creatures seem to be slated for elimination. The goblins, for example, are livid about the attack on Gringotts in London, and have pledged to help us."

"The centaurs and the merpeople can't he happy about what happened at Hogsmeade, either," Harry agreed. "Perhaps they can help, if any of them are left, of course."

"The Muggles have united against us, so it is time for all magical beings to gather together to fight this menace," the man said. "So, Mr Potter, can we count on you to organise and lead the British resistance against the Muggles?"

"Yes, you can," Ginny said before he had a chance to speak, "and we'll all help him."

Harry shrugged. "You heard her," he grinned. "I might be prepared to take on the entire Muggle army, but I'm not daft enough to argue with my girlfriend."

"See, there's proof that he has some intelligence," Ginny said with a smirk.

The assembled Confederation members smiled for the first time in a long while.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

One week later

Harry peered through the chain link fence and across the wide open space of the airfield. RAF Coltishall in Norfolk had been selected at random as their first target and would very much be a test of their capabilities.

As soon as they had returned to the UK after their visit to the ICW, Harry and his friends had thrown themselves into researching and planning what amounted to a military campaign. Hermione had been a veritable whirlwind, and Harry suspected she was actually enjoying the idea of destroying the Muggle's weapons of war. Truth be told, so was he. These warplanes that could indiscriminately rain death down on unsuspecting people on the ground were a fine place to start in his book.

As well as planning, they had also tried to reach out to the remaining magical community in Britain, and he'd been pleased to discover just how many people he knew had avoided the Muggle forces. Their real breakthrough had come when they found Lee Jordan, Fred and George's old friend, hiding out in his family home. He'd immediately agreed to join them, and had brought a great deal of radio equipment with him. Soon, he'd set up a wireless network which the Muggles had so far been unable to either track or jam. At last, they had a means to communicate with their fellow witches and wizards.

Unfortunately, a lot of the Muggleborns Harry had gone to school with had been arrested. It appeared that the Muggles had kept records of which children had not attended a regular comprehensive after junior school, and used these records to round them up. All too often, possession of a wand had been a death sentence for them.

But now it was finally time to hit back. A team of twenty witches and wizards were currently lurking outside the perimeter fence of the Royal Air Force base ready to strike.

"Do you think that guard will be around again soon?" Ron whispered. They'd seen an armed guard walk past doing a perimeter check just a few minutes ago.

"Doesn't matter if he does," Ginny argued. "We're going to start blowing up those planes pretty soon, and everyone will know we're here then."

"Yeah, but no point announcing our presence before we have to," he shot back.

"It's time, anyway," Harry announced after glancing at his watch. He began to crawl back to the others and the two Weasleys followed him.

Picking up his broom which had been lying on the ground, Harry pushed himself up and to his feet. Glancing around, he could see his strike team copying his actions. They'd decided that attacking the base while mounted on brooms would be the best way to cover all of the large base. Hermione had found aerial pictures of the airfield on the internet and everyone had a set target to deal with.

"Okay, this is it, everyone," Harry announced. "Just stick to the plan: get in there, destroy your assigned targets fast, and then get out. Just do what we set out to do, and don't get side-tracked. Good luck, everyone."

"Thanks, Harry. You, too," Katie Bell said firmly. She'd been one of the first to volunteer for the mission, and the obvious choice to be included with her superb flying skills.

"Let's go!" Harry cried, and shot into the air on his beloved Firebolt.

Nineteen other brooms followed him, heading straight for the cluster of buildings across the grass. They had nearly reached the large, concrete apron before anyone noticed them. The Muggle ground crew then began yelling in alarm at the sight of broom riders bearing down on them rapidly.

Reaching this point was the signal for them all to split up. The aircraft were all scattered across the base, many of them housed individually in hardened concrete shelters. At least ten planes, Harry was pleased to see, were parked in a neat row out here in the open. He left them to the others while he and Ginny banked hard and headed towards the control tower. This was a squat building with what looked like a glass dome mounted on it. He could see people inside the dome, pointing at them as they approached. These were people who had guided the bombers to kill many, including Ginny's mother, he reminded himself. They would be the first Muggle casualties.

"Now!" Ginny cried, pointing her wand at the building. Harry did likewise and two bolts of pure white energy shot from the tips of their wands and impacted on the control tower nearly simultaneously. The building was blown to pieces in a split second, sending a shower of brick, glass and dust into the air. They didn't pause to admire their work, but banked their brooms hard left, heading for a huge hanger.

The hanger doors were open, but they didn't plan to enter it. Instead, they split up with Harry flying to the left of the enormous building and Ginny to the right. As soon as they came level with the eighty foot high walls, blue bolts of light erupted from their wands, easily cutting through the metal structure. Flying fast and low, the pair of them quite literally cut the hanger down, and as he turned and started to gain altitude, Harry could see the huge building starting to collapse in a twisted heap.

Taking a moment to look around, he could already see dozens of fires raging around the airfield. Glancing back at the apron, he could see the aircraft parked there were now burning wrecks, their wheels collapsed and their fuselages engulfed in flames.

Suddenly, a huge explosion filled the air and Harry turned his head in time to see a gigantic fireball expanding into the air.

"Katie must have got the fuel dump," Ginny called across to him, a huge grin plastered to her face.

"Yeah, she… shit!"

As he'd start to speak, a loud popping noise attracted his attention. Looking around, he soon saw a group of men in camouflaged uniforms firing their guns at a passing broom. The rider, who had been busy destroying one of the concrete hangers, hadn't seen them and was hit instantly. He slumped off the broom and fell onto the grass below while his broom continued to fly on its own for a short while, before nosediving into the ground.

"Bastards!" Ginny yelled and turned her broom in the direction of the soldiers. Harry followed suit and the bore down on the troops, who noticed them coming and shifted their aim.

Knowing his girlfriend's burning anger at the Muggles who killed her mother and brothers, Harry decided that he would cast a Shield in front of the pair of them as he suspected she would be bent on taking more offensive action. He was right, as even as the first of the bullets bounced harmlessly off his protective shield, Ginny shot a large fireball at them. The troops saw it coming and turned to run, but it was too late. The fireball impacted in the middle of the group and exploded, incinerating most of them and blowing the remainder into the air like they were rag dolls. They hit the ground hard and none of them showed any signs of life.

"Right, we've been here long enough. Retreat!" Harry's magically enhanced voice called out.

Instantly, all the broom riders in sight turned and headed back to their rally point. Ginny followed their example, but did continue to throw fireballs at anything still standing as she flew.

They flew over the fence and landed some distance away in a small field. Harry quickly did a headcount.

"Only Melling missing," he noted with satisfaction. "We saw the Muggles get him, unfortunately."

"We blew the crap out of the place!" someone yelled joyfully.

"Don't get cocky!" Harry said loudly. "Everyone, follow the plan! Apparate to your designated location and we'll meet up for a debrief tonight. Well done, everybody, now go!"

One by one, the group popped out of sight, leaving Harry and Ginny alone.

"Good work, sir!" Ginny announced happily, giving him a smart salute.

"Yeah, like you follow any orders I'd give you," Harry snorted.

"True, but it's fun to give you the illusion that you're in change once and a while," she laughed.

Shaking his head, Harry grabbed her hand and they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place, their first mission a success.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Hermione was waiting anxiously for them when they returned. She'd wanted to take part in the raid but had been extremely uncomfortable with the idea of killing Muggle soldiers. Fearing that her hesitation might prove costly in a combat situation, Harry had forbidden her from coming with them.

"How did it go?" she asked after releasing Ron from the death-like hug she'd given him.

"The mission went perfectly, but we did lose someone," Harry admitted.

"That bloke called Melling. I never found out where he was from," Ron admitted.

"He was part of the Administrative Services in the Ministry," Arthur said as he came over to join them. "Good bloke, I always thought."

"One thing that came out of this mission is the fact that we need better communications between us. If we'd been able to give Melling a warning, he might still be here. He was shot in the back and never saw the soldiers who did it."

"Cowardly swine," Arthur growled. His opinion of Muggles had changed greatly in recent weeks.

"Maybe we could do something with a Protean Charm," Hermione pondered.

"We need to do something," Ron agreed. "Once the spells started flying it was impossible to communicate with each other. If nothing else, we'll have to work out a series of signals for next time. You know, like red sparks means retreat, or something."

"Yeah, good thinking," Harry agreed. "We'll do that until Hermione has a chance to come up with something a bit more sophisticated."

"Come into the kitchen, everyone," Arthur told them. "We've got piping hot soup laid on. You'll need it after all that."

Harry let himself he guided into the kitchen, pleased to see Mr Weasley acting a little more like his old self. Of course, it could be down to the fact that they'd just destroyed a load of the machines that had killed his wife and sons, but Harry tried to remain optimistic.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"How bad was the damage?" Mayer growled.

"We lost fifty-one airmen killed with another forty wounded. The airfield is virtually unusable, with nearly every ground facility destroyed, including the main fuel tanks. Most worrying of all, we lost fifty-two Jaguar fighter-bombers in the raid. It was the aircraft they were definitely going for," the Royal Air Force officer explained.

"Hardly a surprise. We've been bombing them pretty fiercely for days now," an Army general noted.

"This will be the first of many such attacks," Mayer predicted. "From now on, security at all military installations must be stepped up. Are your reserves all now called up?"

"Yes, the Queen signed the mobilisation order yesterday and the recall notices went out immediately," the general confirmed. "We'll be able to use the Territorial Army to guard key points like the airfields, freeing up the regulars to undertake direct action against the Magicals."

"Excellent," Mayer nodded. "Home Secretary, any word on securing the second nuclear release?"

"It should be confirmed before lunch," the man confirmed. "It helps that the target is so remote."

"This island in the North Sea is some sort of prison, you say?" asked an admiral. "Would it not be more prudent to capture the place and see if any of the prisoners are prepared to help us?"

"I'm afraid not," Mayer said, secretly appalled at the idea of any of the Magicals working with them. "This prison houses their most hardened and dangerous criminals. These people are mass murderers, happy to kill anyone, Magical or normal. No, these are exactly the sort of people we need to eliminate. Plus, an assault on the island would be highly dangerous and we would probably lose a lot of men. No, this is the best way, believe me."

"Well, it will give us a chance to try out our Trident missile subs," the admiral acknowledged.

"What about our other secret project? Have the family agreed to help?" Mayer asked.

"They have, but only on the strict understanding that their daughter isn't hurt," the Head of MI5 said. "We're ready to send the message whenever you are."

"Go ahead," Mayer said grimly. "The quicker we take down this wizard named Potter, the better."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Hermione slipped out of the house and into the darkened street. She'd told nobody where she was going as she knew that they would only try and stop her. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, she Apparated from the small patch of trees situated in the middle of Grimmauld Place.

She arrived in the back garden of her family's house in Winchester. Through the window, she could faintly see lights on and was relieved that her parents were up and moving. The Grangers were always habitual early risers. Hurriedly, she tried the handle of the back door and found it unlocked. She slipped into the kitchen and sighed with relief.

"Mum? Dad?" she called out.

"Hermione? Is that you?" she heard her mother's voice respond from the living room. Hermione hurried out of the kitchen and into the front room, to find both her parents on their feet.

"Hermione, you came," her mother said happily. "After that last argument we had, I was afraid you wouldn't."

"Of course I would come!" Hermione exclaimed. "I know we've had our differences, but you're still my mum and dad. What was it you needed to speak to me so urgently about?"

"Oh, there's been so much going on, I hardly know where to start," Mrs Granger said in a distraught manner.

"Here, sit yourself down in my chair so we can talk, we'll take the couch," her father said, guiding her to the armchair he normally sat in.

"Okay," she agreed apprehensively. Her mother seated herself on the couch opposite and looked at her with an almost pleading expression.

"I've just got to nip upstairs for a moment, and then we can have a nice chat, eh?" he father said and vanished out the door. Instantly, Hermione became suspicious.

"Mother, why did you ask me to come?" she asked firmly.

"Hermione, sweetheart, your father and I are worried about you," Jane Granger began. "So many terrible things have happened and you seem to be mixed up in all of them. Is this really what you wanted to have happen when you went off to that blasted magical school of yours?"

"A school which is now a pile of radioactive rubble thanks to the government, despite what they've been saying, although I'm sure you've figure that out for yourselves," Hermione retorted. "Did you stop to consider that I could have been at Hogwarts when they dropped the bomb if circumstances had been different?"

"That just proves my point! Don't you understand just how bad things have got if the government has to set off a nuclear bomb on its own territory? It just shows how dangerous these Magicals are if they have to take such radical action. You're just blinded to their evil…"

"No, Mother, you're wrong! My friends aren't evil, we've been fighting Dark forces for ages! The government have just assumed we're all like the Death Eaters, which is ridiculous. That's like saying all Muggles are serial killers based on Jack the Ripper!"

"So, we're Muggles now, are we?" her mother said coolly. "You've started to disassociate yourself from us, have you?"

"Mum, ever since I found out that I was a witch I've been disassociating myself from Muggles, but not because I hate them or look down on them. It's just that I'm different to them. But I would never try and distance myself from you or Dad. I love you!"

"Then how come we've seen so little of you in the last few years? Come the summer holidays, you stick around for a week or two before you're off again and we're left with no idea where you are or what you're doing."

"The war with Voldemort was coming to a head. Harry needed me!" she protested. "I had hoped that after he was defeated we could spend more time together as a family, but everything's just fallen to pieces!"

"I wish I could believe you love, I really do, but this Harry Potter seems to have brainwashed you. I dread to think what that boy has convinced you to do. Well, no longer. You can come in now."

Hermione turned in her chair to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at her. Her fingers automatically began to reach for her wand, but she knew she'd never make it in time.

"Put your hands on your head!" the armed man yelled. A second later, three more men all dressed in black combat gear and carrying submachine guns entered the room. As Hermione reluctantly raised her arms, one of them yanked her to her feet and began to roughly pat her down. The man soon found her wand, which he snapped in two without a moment's hesitation.

Hermione's arms were forced down and handcuffs slipped over her wrists. Angrily, she turned and glared at her mother.

"You bitch! You traitorous bitch!" she yelled. "They'll shoot me, you know. Is that what you wanted? Do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you, my love," Jane Granger said calmly. "You're just not seeing sense at the moment. But these men will help you. They'll deal with all the brainwashing you've suffered, and we'll get out wonderful little girl back again."

"You really believe that?" she yelled as the men started to drag her away. "This is a war of eradication! Any person with magical abilities will be killed if they're caught! You've just signed my death sentence!"

Hermione's world suddenly went black as a bag was pulled over her head. She was roughly pushed out of the house and led to what she thought was a van. She was thrown in the back and the vehicle began to move immediately.

Fighting back the tears, she howled in frustration at how stupid she'd been.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry, Ginny and her father sat in the kitchen, munching on toast and talking about unimportant things. After the frantic action of the previous day, they all felt that they needed a little downtime. Kreacher was shuffling around, preparing a second breakfast for them and grumbling if he encountered a pot or pan not cleaned to his satisfaction. He really was a completely different elf to the one Harry had first encountered.

The peaceful morning was interrupted by Ron entering the kitchen and slumping into a chair next to Harry. He looked around sleepily before frowning.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked. "She was already gone when I woke up."

"And why, Ronald, would you be expecting to see Hermione as soon as you woke up?" Mr Weasley asked in a frosty tone.

"Err, that is, she….err," Ron floundered.

"Is she not upstairs?" Harry asked quickly. Once Arthur started quizzing Ron about his sleeping arrangements it would only be a matter of time before he and Ginny were dragged into it.

"Yeah, have you looked in the library?" Ginny added, obviously thinking along the same lines.

"No, I stuck my head in there to check if she was about. That's always the first place I look for her," Ron pointed out.

"Miss Granger left the house early this morning," Kreacher croaked.

"Really? Did she say where she was going?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid not," Kreacher replied. "I got the impression she was trying not to be seen by anyone when she left. Perhaps she went back to the Muggles?"

"All her things are still in her room," Ron said with a frown, obviously too worried to care about the implications of his words.

"Do you think she went to see her parents?" Ginny suggested.

"She hasn't exactly been on good terms with them, has she?" Ron reminder her. "Besides, it would be a big risk to take, wouldn't it? That just wouldn't be like her, at all."

Further conversation was halted by the Floo activating and a panicky Luna leaping out.

"Is it true?" she demanded. "What the Muggles are saying, is it true?"

"What are the Muggles saying?" Harry asked in confusion.

Luna ignored him and looked frantically around the room. "Where's Hermione?" she demanded.

"We don't know. We were just talking about it, actually. Kreacher says she snuck out early this morning," Ginny told her friend.

"Oh, no!" Luna wailed. "We always listen to the Muggle news on the radio each morning, just to keep tabs on things. They announced this morning that they'd just captured one of the leaders of the terrorist group they've been fighting, and they said her name was Granger! She's been taken to the MI5 headquarters here in London for interrogation."

Ron cried out in dismay while Harry sat back in his chair, stunned. Hermione wouldn't have left the house without a good reason, and he's bet his last Galleon that it had something to do with her parents. Either she's been spotted entering the house, or her parents had betrayed her. Either way, this was a disaster.

"We've got to get her back," Harry said firmly.

"But how? Don't you think it was a little suspicious that the Muggles announced where they were taking her? I wouldn't be surprised if this is a trap to capture us all," Ginny said.

"Of course it's a trap," Harry growled. "They'd be stupid not to try and use her like that."

"Then what do we do?" Ron demanded.

"We walk into the trap, but we arrange a little insurance, first," he smiled grimly.


	22. Chapter 22 – Tipping Point

**Chapter 22 – Tipping Point**

 **AN**

Another long author's note, I'm afraid.

I've had a lot of reviewers stating that the Magicals are going about the fight all wrong. Their arguments centre mainly on the use of two spells: Apparation and the Imperius Curse.

Why didn't Hermione and Dean just Apparate away when the Muggles tried to capture them? This one's easily answered. The first thing the Muggles did was take their wands and destroy them. From HP Wikipedia: -

'A witch or wizard ordinarily requires a wand in order to Apparate,[2] but like many other spells, it can be performed without one, but only by more skilled wizards or witches, such as Tom Marvolo Riddle, or Dumbledore.'

The Imperius Curse is a lot harder to explain away. Seemingly, the Magicals could have used the curse to just take over, Imperiusing politicians, military leaders, etc. But couldn't the same be said for the books? I know the curse was freely used, but there are many examples of times when the Death Eaters could have used it and won easily. For instance, at Malfoy Manor when they were struggling to identify Harry, why didn't they just use the curse on Ron or Hermione and get them to identify themselves? Why was there even an end battle, as the DE's could have just used the curse to get the pupils to turn each other? In short, as soon as he got his body back, why didn't Voldemort go on an Imperius casting-spree and take over overnight? Instead, he's uses it but twice in the whole series.

I suspect there is some drawback or limitation to the curse we don't know about, but as JKR hasn't clarified the matter, I have no idea. If you want my reason why the Magicals don't you the curse, it's because it is a very, very Dark spell that few outside of the Death Eaters would know how to cast, and fewer still would be prepared to use. It probably requires a very strong mind to perform, which would limit its use, too. That, of course, doesn't cover Harry, Hermione or Ron who all know who to use it, thanks to a disguised Barty Crouch Jnr, but you'll just have to accept that they don't want to use it on another human being. The main reason I don't use this in the story, however, is that it would make things too easy for the Magicals and ruin the plot, which I expect is the reason JKR didn't, either. When Jo Rowling creates plot holes for herself, it's normally with the spells.

 **Arnel's Opinion**

There's another thing you might want to consider. It's a reason that distinguishes those on the Light side from those on the Dark. It's what Albus Dumbledore said was the choice between what was right and what was easy. I think most of the characters on the Light side take this very seriously. They all seem to weigh the consequences of using the Imperius Curse and come to the conclusion that while it may be easy to make someone do your bidding, it's also immoral to control someone so completely, and they try to use other means of persuasion which will allow their target to make their own decisions on whether or not to do something, which is a bit harder, I think. Those on the Dark side tend to see curse as a means to get what they want quickly, in the easiest way possible, and Dark parents tend to teach their children to think this way, from a very young age, and to teach them to mean it, to want to hurt someone, when they cast those spells. Harry discovers this in Ravenclaw Tower after Amicus Carrow spits in McGonagall's face and also when he watches Crabbe try to AK Hermione and Ron in the Room of Hidden Things as an easy way of getting rid of the "pesky Gryffindors."

* * *

Jeff Mayer stared out of the reinforced window of the SIS building situated on Albert Embankment. It was still early enough that there was little traffic passing over the Vauxhall Bridge and a thin mist still lingered over the Thames. He smiled to himself, happy that his plans were all coming together.

In the last week and a half, half of the world's estimated population of Magicals had been eliminated. A small part of him sometimes worried that he was becoming another Himmler, intent on wiping out a racial grouping, but he strongly believed that he had no choice. Himmler had been motivated by twisted racial stereotypes, while the Magicals were a clear and obvious threat. Besides, Heinrich would never have got to the position of power he did without those damn Magicals, anyway.

"Everything is in place, sir."

Mayer turned and saw Simon standing at the door. He smiled warmly at his right-hand man and gestured for him to take a seat.

"Has the Granger girl told us anything useful yet?" he enquired.

"Not at the moment, sir, but its early days. She's heavily medicated at the moment and we won't start the formal interrogation until later when she's completely disoriented. She's in the holding cells downstairs, at the moment."

"Are the troops all in place?"

"Yes, and have been since midnight. There's the best part of a battalion of crack Royal Marines stationed here in this building and throughout the surrounding area. We have helicopter gunships on standby, and even a squadron of light tanks hidden behind Tate Britain. If the Magicals try and rescue Granger, I'm confident they'll be cut to pieces."

"Excellent. Has the latest press release been prepared?" Mayer asked.

"It's already going to print as we speak," Simon confirmed. "We've leaked the idea that Granger's parents have convinced her to see reason and that she's cooperating with us fully. It should convince the Magicals to make an attempt to get to her, if only to shut her up. Besides, when she wakes we can show her the articles and convince her that all her friends now think she's a traitor. That may persuade her to talk."

"Yes, we can use the idea several ways," Mayer smiled. "Of course, the best thing to have happen is…"

Suddenly, the door was thrown open and a Royal Marine Major ran into the office.

"Sir, out there on Vauxhall Bridge! The Magicals are here!" he cried.

Mayer leapt to his feet and peered out of the window. Just a few moments before, the bridge had been empty apart from a few passing cars and lorries. Now, standing on the bridge was a group of around ten people. They were all instantly recognisable from the long, flowing robes they wore.

Fumbling for his glasses, Mayer inspected the immobile group more closely. The leader had black, shaggy hair and green robes that rippled in the morning breeze. Kneeling in front of him was another figure who appeared to have a bag over his head. The group just stood there, not moving a muscle. This was not what Mayer was expecting, he had to admit, and who was the kneeling man with the bag over his head?

"I WANT TO TALK WITH WHOEVER IS IN CHANGE!"

The black-haired man's voice boomed out loud enough to rattle the bullet-proof windows of the SIS building. Probably half of London must have heard him.

"What the hell do they want?" the Royal Marine major mumbled.

"TRUST ME, YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME…NOW!" the voice boomed again.

"Don't even think about it, sir," Simon said warily. "It's bound to be a trap to get at you."

"They don't even know who I am, Simon," Mayer replied dismissively.

"Do we open fire?" the Major asked.

"Wait a second," Mayer replied, eyeing the kneeling figure uneasily. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"NO? DOES NO ONE HAVE THE DECENCY TO COME AND TALK WITH ME?" the young man said after a few minutes. "THAT'S A SHAME. WELL, SOMEONE HAD BETTER COME AND TALK WITHIN THE NEXT TWO MINUTES, OR BRITAIN WILL HAVE TO FIND ITSELF A NEW LEADER."

At that, a tall red-haired man in black robes strode forward and pulled the bag off the kneeling figure. The man looked up, blinking into the light, a look of fear on his face.

"Oh, dear God! That's the Prime Minister!" the Major exclaimed.

Mayer ground his teeth in anger.

Two hours earlier

The Prime Minister looked around his office irritably. That damnable magic painting was gone, even if they'd had to remove a large portion of the wall to do it. Likewise, the fireplace had also been bricked up, but still, whenever he was alone, he got the feeling that someone was watching him…

Shaking his head, the P.M. pushed the report he'd been reading away in disgust. All this talk of witches and wizards was making him jumpy. He'd been working too hard, he mused, and it was all starting to get on top of him. Hell, he'd barely seen his wife and daughter in over a week.

Making a snap decision, he decided he needed some well-earned rest. Pressing the intercom, he spoke to his private secretary.

"Can you get someone to send the car round, please? I'm going to Checkers to spend what's left of the weekend there," he said.

"Right away, sir," the voice replied.

Yes, the P.M. thought, a couple of nights away at Checkers, the country retreat reserved for use by the current Prime Minister, would be just the ticket. Mayer had the war against the Magicals all in hand, and the rest of the Cabinet could manage without for a while.

Less than ten minutes later, his private secretary stuck her head around the door and announced that his car was waiting outside. He packed up his briefcase, throwing in a few reports that he knew he absolutely had to read, and headed out. His bodyguard was waiting for him outside and immediately fell into step behind him.

He exited through the front door of 10 Downing Street and found his usual bullet-proof Mercedes waiting for him. Two other similar vehicles were to provide his escort, and there would be a police helicopter maintaining an airborne vigil while they drove. The P.M. dropped gratefully into the back seat of the car and closed the door. They were moving before he'd even had a chance to loosen his tie.

Getting out of central London always took time, no matter what time of day it was. He must have been more tired than he realised, because his head started to nod even before they reached the North Circular Road, and he was sound asleep before they reached the M1 motorway.

Suddenly, a terrific jolt roused him from his slumber and nearly knocked him to the floor. He peered out of the window anxiously, but could only see trees and what looked like farmland in the darkness. He was about to ask the driver what had happened when the night was lit up by a tremendously bright light. The P.M. shielded his eyes, but he thought he could hear shouts from outside. Two loud bangs sounded – gunfire! He blinked a few times and was relieved to see the light was fading. There came another shot, followed by an ominous silence.

"What's going on?" he asked the driver.

"Stay down, sir," the man replied, and the P.M. could see the man had drawn his own pistol. "We'll get you out safe…"

The driver never finished the sentence as the front windshield abruptly shattered into a thousand pieces, showering the man in shards of reinforced glass. A moment later, he was hit by a bright bolt of blue light. He screamed once, and collapsed over the steering wheel.

The P.M. froze in his seat, uncertain what to do. In security briefings, he'd always been informed to stay in cover and let his guards handle the problem, but he wasn't exactly sure where his guards were at that moment.

This indecision was made irrelevant a few seconds later when the car door, supposed to be able to stop a rocket-propelled grenade, was ripped from its hinges and went hurtling into the darkness. The P.M. gasped and shrunk back in terror. Then, the grizzled face of a man wearing what looked like some mad mechanical eye, peered into the vehicle.

"Hello, Prime Minister," the man said in a gruff Scottish accent. "I'm afraid you'll be taking a little detour."

It was all the P.M. could do not to scream.

Vauxhall Bridge – present

Mayer walked purposely across the bridge towards the Magicals with an escort of a half a dozen Royal Marines and Simon, who had refused to be left behind. As he approached, he could clearly see the Prime Minister glaring at his captors sullenly. At least the man appeared to have a little backbone.

When he was around ten feet away from the dark-haired wizard, Mayer stopped. The man was even younger than he'd thought, but he was still rather intimidating. The rest of the group were a diverse bunch, ranging from some from a strange young blond girl wearing the oddest earrings he'd ever seen, to a freakish man who appeared to have a peg-leg. This rag-tag bunch of weirdos confirmed everything Mayer had ever thought about the Magicals.

"Are you in charge?" the dark-haired young man asked.

"I have a certain authority here," Mayer replied cagily.

"Oh, great. A bloody Yank," a tall red-haired youth growled.

"I assume I'm addressing Harry Potter," Mayer continued, ignore the other wizard.

"You are. Frankly, I don't give a shit who you are, but I do care about what you've taken from me," Potter snapped.

"The Granger girl?" Mayer asked innocently.

"The Granger girl. I want her back," Potter confirmed.

"What makes you think she's even still alive?" he taunted.

"She bloody better be!" the tall red-head yelled, pointing his wand directly at Mayer. Beside him, the Royal Marines shouldered their weapons aggressively.

Potter held up his hand, signalling that he wanted the other wizard to back down. He then turned to Mayer and looked him straight in the eye. He held his gaze for nearly half a minute.

"Come, come, Mr Mayer," Potter said calmly. "You went to all the trouble of capturing Hermione just to lay this trap for me, it would have been stupid to kill her when she was still useful to you."

Jeffrey did his best to remain expressionless, but he was shocked that the young man knew his name. Was this kid some sort of mind reader? Instantly, Mayer knew he had to end this stand-off quickly.

"What do you want? You must know we're not just going to hand over the girl and let you all waltz off."

"If you don't you're going to have to find yourselves a new Prime Minister," Potter countered, "and as I expect we've got half of London watching us from various vantage points, you standing there tugging your plonker while we kill him isn't going to look too good, is it?"

"We've got snipers everywhere. One word from me and you'll all be cut down in an instant."

"Do you really think we're not protected? Silly man, your little pop guns don't frighten us," Potter grinned. "On the other hand, if you try anything stupid we'll flatten half of central London. Perhaps a demonstration is in order. Ginny, sweetie, would you be a dear?"

"Of course, my love," a small red-haired girl said, and smiled at Mayer evilly. She then waved her wand once, and a huge fireball erupted from the end of it, causing them all to gasp in horror. The fireball travelled with lightning speed and impacted on against the upper floors of the SIS building which promptly exploded in an immense ball of flame, sending a shower of stone and glass in all directions.

"You little bitch! My men were up there!" the Royal Marine Major yelled and fired his pistol at the witch.

Mayer watched in amazement as the bulleted literally seemed to melt in the air, fizzing away to nothing. Potter, almost casually, aimed his wand at the Major and send him hurtling backwards through the air, and over the side of the bridge into the water below.

"DON'T FIRE! DON'T FIRE!" Mayer shouted, desperate to stop this meeting turning into a bloodbath. Behind him, he could hear Simon desperately repeating the order into a handheld radio he'd been carrying.

"As you can see, your threats mean bugger-all to us," Potter said angrily.

Mayer stared at the young man in horror. No intelligence reports had ever mentioned a Magical having the levels of power this group appeared to have. Then he remembered the words of Shacklebolt, just before he'd been killed. He'd told the Prime Minister that Potter had defeated a Dark Lord, and was even more powerful than that terrifying monster. The question was, just how powerful were the youth and his friends? They had set a trap to catch a mouse, and apparently netted a lion instead.

"Will you release the Prime Minister if we give you Granger?" Mayer asked, as calmly as he was able.

"Yes," Potter said simply.

"How do we know we can trust you?"

"You don't, but you don't have a lot of choice, do you?"

Gritting his teeth, Mayer turned to his assistant.

"Simon, get them to bring the Granger girl here," he said. Simon nodded, and repeated the order into his radio. Mayer turned and looked at Potter again.

"We'll comply with your wished," he said.

Potter nodded. "Tell me, since we have a minute or two to chat, why do you hate us so much?"

"Are you kidding? How many innocent people have you bunch killed? How many times have you interfered with the running of the world? How much blood is on your hands, Potter?"

"The only blood on my hands is from evil wizards who we were trying to prevent killing you Muggles," Potter snapped. "Why do you assume we're all the same? Yes, there are some totally evil wizards, but there have been plenty of evil Muggles, too! Why are you lumping us all together?"

"Because you're all an abomination! You're all an affront to God and the Christian faith! You devil-worshippers should be wiped off the face of the planet!" Mayer raged.

Potter stared at him sadly for a moment.

"I'd hoped to reason with you, but I can see that's going to be impossible," he replied. "You're as much of a fanatic as Voldemort was, and just as racist in your own way. Tell me, are me and my friends really so different from you? Yes, we have powers and abilities you don't have, but we're still people, just like you."

"You're nothing like me!" Mayer yelled, deeply offended. "You're nothing but a… a… freak!"

Potter just looked at him with something approaching hatred in his eyes, but it was nothing compare to the anger coming from the red-haired witch who'd nearly levelled the SIS building.

"You say that to Harry one more time, and they won't find enough of you to fill an eggcup," she snarled.

Mayer remained silent, afraid of provoking the witch further. He could almost feel the raw power rolling off the girl, and her furious expression convinced him not to aggravate any of the Magicals further.

They stood in silence for a good five minutes, before a pair of suited Secret Service men appeared, half-carrying the drugged Granger girl between them. The tall red-haired wizard growled when he saw the condition she was in, and for a moment Mayer feared further violence. Another man, older and balder but sharing an obvious family likeness, restrained the young wizard.

"What's wrong with her?" Potter demanded.

"Just drugged. She'll be fine in a couple of hours," Mayer assured him.

"She'd better be, or I'll hunt you down and remove your liver via your throat," Potter warned. "Ron, Levitate her over here."

The tall red-head pointed his wand, and Granger rose effortlessly into the air, an act that seemed to ruffle the normally implacable Secret Service men.

"Okay, Prime Minister, you can get off your knees now and go and join your little friends," Potter said coldly. The P.M. didn't need a second invitation, and scrambled to his feet. He walked with what little dignity he could muster over to the waiting Royal Marines, who instantly surrounded him to prevent the Magicals attacking him with any spells. It was a tactic Mayer thought wouldn't be worth a damn against that lot.

"We'll be going now, but before I go I have something to say to you all," Potter announced loudly. "Up to this point, we've been holding back, trying to reason with you lot and convince you this war you unleashed on us was a mistake. Well, no more. Unless you agree to a total halt to hostilities and give us assurances you won't attack us again, we're going to give you a war you'll never forget! We destroyed that airbase as a demonstration of what we can do, and you've seen further evidence today. From this point, we're going to make your lives hell. We're going to blow up your planes, destroy your tanks, and sink your ships. If anyone tries to stop us, they'll be killed. We didn't start this war, but we're bloody well going to finish it!"

Without waiting for a response, Potter signalled to the rest of his group and a moment later they just vanished. Mayer heard the Royal Marines gasp and start muttering to themselves, but he wasn't listening.

He'd misjudged. The Magicals were even more dangerous than he'd feared. They were a threat to every normal human being on the plant, and they had to be stopped.

"Come along, Prime Minister," he said firmly. "We have much to discuss."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry and his friends entered the kitchen at Grimmauld Place to be met by a number of anxious faces. Chief amongst these was Xeno Lovegood who hurried over to his daughter the second he caught sight of her. He also clapped a friendly hand on Arthur Weasley's shoulder. The men had become good friends in recent weeks, bonded by their shared tragedies.

"Any problems?" Xeno asked as they all trooped in.

"No, we managed to get Hermione back," Luna said happily.

Hermione, who had been half-carried to a chair by Ron, managed a wane smile. She'd seemed to perk up a bit since they got back to the house, but still looked drawn and distant.

"I'm going to take Hermione up to bed. She needs to sleep," Ron said firmly, casting a challenging glance towards his father.

Surprisingly, Arthur Weasley didn't say a word.

After Ron had helped his disoriented girlfriend out of the room, and Hestia Jones had distributed mugs of steaming hot tea to the rest of them, Harry decided he needed to tell the others what he'd discovered.

"We have a problem," he announced. "That Yank bloke we spoke to, I managed to do quite a deep Legilimens scan on him."

"Oh, what did you discover, Potter?" Moody asked curiously.

"He's the reason for all this, he's the instigator," Harry explained. "His name is Jeffrey Mayer and he's one of the wealthiest men on the planet. He's also a hard-core Christian and believes that all magic users are abominations and servants of the Devil. He firmly believes we should all be wiped from the face of the earth, and he's used his money and influence to engineer this conflict."

"What? Then why the bloody hell didn't you take him out when you had the chance?" Moody demanded.

"It wouldn't have done any good. The war has started and nothing will stop it now, not even Mayer's death. Besides, killing him then would have put Hermione at risk. The rest of us, too. I don't know how long I could have maintained that Shield against the concentrated firepower there was around us. We could have all been killed, too, and for little purpose."

"Okay, I accept the logic," Moody acknowledged reluctantly. "But perhaps we should still think about killing the bastard."

"He's very well protected, and as I said, killing him wouldn't stop the war. He has an extensive support network and has shared his information about us freely. I can't believe he knew so much about us… he's been collecting data on anything magical for years. He even knew about me, courtesy of the bloody Dursleys," Harry spat. "The point is, he's convinced virtually every government on the planet that we're a threat. He and his friends have major business interests across the globe. If they wanted to, they could bring the planet's entire economy to shuddering halt, so the politicians will listen to him. Besides, after they found out World War Two started because of Grindelwald, it didn't take much to convince them that we were dangerous."

"That's been overplayed. Grindelwald may have used those Nazi bastards, but he didn't exactly start the war," Bill pointed out.

"He still played a big part in Hitler's rise to power," Moody disagreed. "The Muggles won't forgive that."

"No, and Voldemort's recent reign of terror convinced them that we represent a current, viable threat. If they weren't a murdering bunch of idiots, I could almost see the Muggles' point," Harry growled.

"So, this man, with his vast wealth and political power, has convinced every government on the planet that we have to be killed," Arthur summarised. "What do we do?"

"Do?" Harry repeated in surprise. "There's only one thing we can do: carry on fighting. We need to convince them that fighting us isn't worth it. Once Hermione's on her feet, we need to start creating a detailed plan of how we're going to destroy the British military. Once we've gone that, we're going to help the wizards and witches of every other country in the world to do the same in their homeland."

"That's a pretty tall order, Potter," Moody said. "Taking on the every Muggle army in the world."

"Do we have a choice?" Harry asked.

No one refuted his argument.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It was nearly ten o'clock when Harry heard the door to his bedroom creak open. Ron had, unsurprisingly, not returned to the room, so he'd been alone with his thoughts.

Ginny walked to the edge of his bed and silently began to remove her clothing. He held up the bedclothes for her, and she slipped into the small bed without a word. In fact, it was so long before she spoke that he'd begun to think she'd fallen asleep.

"We don't stand a chance, do we?" she asked in a small voice.

"Of course we do," he replied with as much conviction as he could muster. "It's not like we're setting out to kill all the Muggles. All we've got to do is make the price of fighting us unacceptable."

"And what about the price to us?" she demanded, a hint of anger creeping in. "I've already lost four brothers and my mother. When will this stop? Who'll be next to die? Ron? Bill? Dad? I have so little family left, Harry, I can't stand it! If anything happened to you…"

"As I said before, we don't have a choice. What's the alternative to fighting? Just rolling over and letting them kill us? Because that's the only other option that I can see," he said bitterly.

"So, we have no choice. It's kill or be killed," Ginny said. It sounded more like a statement than a comment.

"I don't believe so. I honestly think this is Voldemort's fault. If he hadn't arrogantly killed those Muggles, thinking that he was so much more powerful than them and that he could just slaughter them at will, we would never have come to this. The Muggles might have found out about Grindelwald, but without that fresh round of murders, the chances are that the Muggles would have treated it all as ancient history. He's brought this upon us."

"Did he? Or is it like you said: evil only prospers when good men do nothing. If the Ministry had stamped down Voldemort when he was still Tom Riddle, if Dumbledore had taken down Grindelwald before he'd caused such carnage… hell, the history books are full of examples of where good witches and wizards had stood about while Muggles have been attacked by Dark forces. If anything, we've brought this on ourselves," she sighed.

"We can't be held responsible for the actions of our predecessors," Harry argued. "We did our best. We fought Voldemort and stopped him before he became too powerful. I suppose it's ironic that we're the first generation that have banded together to defeat a Dark Lord, only for the Muggles to decide enough is enough and attack us."

Ginny just hugged him tighter, and he thought he heard her suppress a sob. When he lifted her chin with his finger so he could look into her eyes, he saw no weakness there, however. Instead, he saw a desperate need.

"Make love to me," she begged. "Make me feel alive."

He crushed his lips to hers eagerly, feeling the desperate need that she felt, too. For the first time in months, he could feel the ambient magic crackling around them as their passions rose, but he didn't care. For tonight, the only thing that mattered was each other.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

One week later

"The submarines will be the hardest things to take out. There are four of them in service that have ballistic missiles that can fly thousands of miles, and the subs can dive to a tremendous depth. They could be anywhere in the ocean! Fortunately, they normally only have one boat out at a time. There are twenty other submarines that can fire smaller cruise missiles, like the one that destroyed Hogwarts. They'll be tricky to find, too."

It had taken Hermione barely a day to recover from her captivity, and she'd returned to the planning table with a renewed energy. One of the first things she did was apply a number of Glamour Charms to herself, and visit a Muggle bookshop where she practically emptied the shelves in the Military section. From these, she'd compiled a list of targets that they should attack. The jet fighters that had been causing so much damage were the immediate priority, but destruction of Britain's nuclear capability was close behind. Unfortunately, most of that capability was based on submarines.

"Anyone can buy these books? They let everyone know about their military capabilities?" Moody asked, leafing through a book about the Royal Navy with interest.

"There's still a lot of classified stuff they don't print, but numbers, types of equipment, the general capabilities; yes, that's all made public," Hermione confirmed.

"All the better for us," Bill said with a grim smile.

"The question is, how the hell do we attack a submarine? We need to take those bloody things out; they're the most dangerous weapons the Muggles have. Look at what happened to Azkaban," Harry pointed out.

Just a few days ago they'd received word that the North Sea prison had been destroyed in the same way Hogsmeade had been attacked: with a nuclear missile. A number of people had flown out on brooms to see if anything was left, but the island itself was now just a collection of jagged rocks jutting out from the sea. Harry had mixed feelings about the destruction of the prison, not least because he believed the last remaining Death Eaters were all incarcerated there. As potentially useful they both would have been in this fight, Harry just couldn't bring himself to believe that they could have trusted any of them.

"I think we need some help," Luna announced. "This isn't just our fight, you know. Other races have suffered casualties, too. For instance, how many Merpeople died when Hogwarts was attacked?"

"Do you think they'll help us?" Harry asked in surprise. "How would we even contact them?"

"There's an establish route for contacting nearly all the sentient magical races," Arthur interrupted. "The Ministry maintain various liaison groups who could speak each race's language and know the best way to contact them. Fortunately, we still have quite a few Ministry staff unharmed, and I'm sure we can find a few people with a smattering of Mermish."

"I'm sure they'll help," Luna said. "In fact, maybe we should be getting the other races involves, too. The goblins must be itching for revenge after what happened at Gringotts."

"Whether they'll work with us is a different matter," Bill frowned. "We're all humans to them, remember."

"Yeah, but the goblins don't have the numbers to defend themselves without us," Harry pointed out. "I suppose they could just dig deep and hide underground, but they'd be effectively exiling themselves if they did that. Bill, do you think you can contact any of the goblins?"

"I think so," he replied uneasily. "Gringotts was just one of their locations in this country. They also maintain several mining communities, including a fairly large one in South Wales. I could probably establish contact if you want."

"Luna's right; this isn't just our fight and we need every ally we can get our hands on," Harry said decisively.

"So, what's next?" Ron asked.

"The airfields," Hermione replied. "We need to destroy as many aircraft as we can. If they can pin-point magical residences using satellites, then their bombers are the most logical way they have to attack us."

"Then let's go burn a few more jets," Harry grinned.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Watch your left, Ron!" Harry yelled.

Harry's friend spun just in time to see a Muggle solider rise from behind cover and aim his rifle at him. A bolt of orange light shot from Ron's wand, and the soldier screamed.

"This is no good, Potter!" Moody yelled. "There are just too many of the bastards! They must have known we'd go after their blasted aeroplanes!"

Harry ground his teeth and sent another Blasting Charm in the direction the gunfire seemed to be coming from. They'd selected RAF Wattisham in Suffolk as their next target, but it appeared that this time the Muggles were ready for them. The moment they'd launched their first curse at the parked bomber aircraft, a huge group of Muggle soldiers had appeared from out of nowhere with guns blazing. They'd already taken casualties, and unless he did something, Harry knew they'd take more.

"Fall back to the buildings," Harry yelled. "Out here in the open we're too easy a target!"

Firing a barrage of curses to keep the troops' heads down, the depleted group of wizards and witches began to edge back to the relative safety of a number of squat buildings, presumably used for administration or other such activities. As they were nearing the first building, however, there was a loud crack and Harry turned in time to see a witch whose name he didn't know clutch her side and then topple to the ground.

"They're behind us! We need to Apparate out!" Moody yelled.

The window of the nearby building exploded in a shower of debris as Luna attacked whoever had shot at them. The once gentle girl had become a very efficient warrior.

"Those planes are killing more of us every day!" Harry yelled back. "We need to take them out!"

"We'll die here!" Moody bellowed.

Seeing the situation was becoming desperate, Harry swore in frustration. It had always been his intent to destroy the Muggle machines, not inflict casualties on the Muggles themselves. That, he'd concluded, would make him no better than Voldemort. Unfortunately, it didn't look like they were leaving him with much choice.

"Ginny," he called over to his girlfriend who was firing curses at the troops at a frightening rate. "We have to stop this before any more of us are killed."

She sprinted the short distance between them and threw herself down onto the grass next to him. "Are you saying it's time to unleash our full power?" she asked.

"I don't think we have a choice," he replied as a line of tracer bullets whizzed over his head.

"Fine by me," she spat, holding out her hand.

Harry took it with a sinking heart. He hadn't wanted this, but he didn't see the alternative.

"Everyone, duck!" Harry yelled as he started to draw the ambient magical energy to him. Beside him, he could feel Ginny doing the same.

There was no spoken agreement between them, they just both knew what they would do. They unleashed their magic simultaneously and, at almost the same second, a huge whirlwind, perhaps fifty feet high, suddenly sprung up amongst the massed troops. Faintly, Harry could hear screams as the first of the soldiers was sucked into the air before being flung aside like rag dolls. As the whirlwind began to gather speed and mass, some men were physically ripped apart by the force of the wind.

Ginny gestured with her hand and the immense, raging column began to move. The soldiers started to climb out of their carefully camouflaged trenches and run, but they had little hope of escape. Broken, twisted bodies began to fly through the air in every direction, landing as misshapen heaps of flesh and bones.

"The aircraft shelters," Harry yelled.

The whirlwind began to pick up speed, and tore across the large airfield at a frightening pace. Soon, it reached the first hardened aircraft shelter; an ugly, concrete structure designed to resist bombs. The shelter began to disintegrate even before the column of swirling air reached it. As it past, it left nothing but a jumbled mass of stone and metal spread out over a huge radius.

"Protect them while they take care of the aircraft!" Harry heard Moody shout, and in his peripheral vision he saw his friends casting spells at the few Muggles still capable of resistance. He barely noticed, however.

Despite the terrible destruction they were causing, there was something nearly erotic about the way his magic was merging with Ginny's. It was almost the sorcerous equivalent of intercourse, and it felt hugely inappropriate as men died all around him. Even so, his body was trembling with excitement and he could almost sense Ginny's arousal, too.

The redhead let out a gasp of pleasure as a lightning bolt struck the ground several hundred meters away. For a second, Harry began to worry that they were both losing control and they had unleashed a power too great for them to contain. A second bolt flashed and struck a large hanger, similar to the one he and his girlfriend had neatly cut in two during their last raid. The large structure was blown to smithereens and fires began to spring up in a dozen places.

"That's it, you two! Smash the bastards!" Moody practically whooped with delight.

A third bolt of lightning struck the control tower, virtually levelling the building. The whirlwind, in the meantime, had continued to grow and by now had demolished half of the aircraft shelters in sight.

Harry became lost within himself. He was no longer aware of the mass destruction around him, or his friends yelling gleefully as the Muggle airfield was torn apart. He wasn't even aware of the grass under his fingers, or the darkened sky overhead. He felt like he was tumbling down into his own mind, lost in a confusing jumble of memories and thoughts. Abruptly, he came to a halt and found himself facing a tall, handsome youth who had a smug smile on his face.

"Don't blame me, Harry," Tom Riddle said. "This would have happened sooner or later. The Muggles technology was becoming too advanced and it was only a matter of time before they became aware of us. Do you really think they would ever have left us alone at that point? Just be grateful this war happened while you were around to influence it."

"Grateful? I should be grateful?" Harry spat. "The woman I came to think of as a mother is dead, along with dozens of my friends. Practically every Muggle in the world is trying to kill me, and every witch and wizard is in danger, and you tell me to be grateful!"

"Be grateful because you have Ginny by your side," Riddle countered. "Before you, you can see what effect unleashing your combined power has. With the pair of you, we have a chance. Without you, the Wizarding world would already be dead."

Before Harry could reply, he felt himself jerked backwards, out of his subconscious and back into reality. The first thing he became aware of was Ginny's fingers tightly clutching his own. They were small and warm, and he felt joy at her simple touch. That joy instantly evaporated once he opened his eyes.

Before was a scene of total devastation. Their conjured whirlwind had nearly petered out, but it had done its job admirably. Not a single building was left standing and the whole area looked like a rubbish tip strewn with rubble, glass and pieces of twisted metal. Amongst the ruins, occasionally visible, was the odd mangled body.

"Sweet Merlin!" Ron exclaimed quietly.

No one moved for a long time, until Mad-eye Moody abruptly climbed to his feet.

"Alright, boys and girls. We've done what we came here to do. Let's go home," he said decisively.

Harry and Ginny also stood, their fingers still interlocked. Harry turned and share a look with Ginny, who at that moment seemed a little confused.

"Did we really do all that, Harry?" she whispered.

"Yes, love, and the awful thing is, we'll probably have to do it again."

Ginny just nodded. Really, what was there to say?

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"They're all dead? All of them? But that airfield was defended by two companies of the Royal Anglian Regiment! That's nearly three hundred men," the General gasped.

"There were over two hundred and fifty Air Force personal there, too," the nervous intelligence office explained.

"I thought billeting those troops on my airfields was supposed to protect them!" an Air Vice-Marshall growled. "I've lost over a hundred planes in just over a week."

"Yes, because the RAF Regiment did so much better at defending the first airfield, didn't they?" the General retorted angrily.

"Gentlemen," Mayer said in a tone that caused them all too instantly fall silent. "I think that unfortunately no matter how many troops we had at those bases, it wouldn't have done any good. I believe both attacks were the work of the Magicals' leader: Harry Potter."

"You mean one scrawny teenager can dish out that level of damage? Dear God," the Foreign Secretary moaned.

"Yes, but he is an exception in their ranks," Mayer assured him. "We've studied their history, and it appears that the average Magical isn't all that powerful. Every so often, though, a wizard comes along with such extraordinary levels of power that the rest of them flock to him. It happened previously with this Dark Lord they were all talking about, and it seems to be happening again with this Potter fellow."

"So, if we can kill him, the rest should be a pushover?" an Admiral asked.

"Well, certainly they'll be a lot easier to beat," Mayer smiled. "The trouble is, we have no idea where Potter is hiding out. If I'd known quite how dangerous he was, I'd have taken more drastic measures to take him out when he made the rescue attempt on his friend. Even if we'd had to flatten half of central London it would have been worth it."

"Tell that to those that own property round there," someone muttered.

"Damn it, use your heads!" Mayer raged. "Don't you realise how dangerous this boy is? That Dark Lord who did so much damage was a fanatic; an evil bastard who apparently was worried about bloodlines and racial cleansing. Potter is middle of the road compared to that guy, and everyone we've talked to describe him as brave, handsome and likeable. Basically, the kid is a walking poster boy for the Magicals' campaign! He'll unite every last one of them and lead an army against us."

"We did get a few good photos of him on Vauxhall Bridge," the intelligence office pointed out. "We can circulate them and offer a hefty reward for information leading to his capture. One of his own might even be tempted to turn on him just to cash in."

"That's a good idea. Loyalty probably doesn't mean much to these godless heathens," Mayer nodded.

"Even if we do corner him, what can we do against him?" someone asked. "I mean, this boy seems to have limitless magical powers!"

"We don't take him head-on, if that's what you mean. No, we lay booby-traps for him, bomb him from altitude, or try and get a sniper in range. We can't afford to be noble with this bastard."

There were nods of agreement all-round the room.

"Don't worry, gentlemen," Mayer assured them. "This attack was a major blow, but overall we're winning the war, not just here, but across the globe. Russia estimates that they've killed ninety-two per cent of all the Magicals in their country and the rest are being hunted down. They'll soon be able to send troops to neighbouring countries to aid the fight there. In America, we've flattened all their major settlements and mobilised the entire population against them! The story is the same everywhere."

"Apart from France," the General pointed out.

"Yes, France is a bit of a mess at the moment. Hopefully we can stop the trouble from spreading to neighbouring countries. Spain is doing pretty well, as is Germany, so I wouldn't want to see that unrest spilling over the borders," Mayer frowned.

"Should have nuked the bastards when they had the chance," the Air Vice-Marshall noted.

"Indeed," he agreed. "Gentlemen, the war is changing. Our biggest victories have been in taking out their major facilities in one hit. Now we've eliminated them, we're left with penny pockets of Magicals spread-out and hiding which will be much harder to root out. We must redouble our efforts and leave no stone unturned. Remember, if we have to suffer some collateral damage to take out a few of these devil-worshipping bastards, then so be it!"

Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably at his words, but Mayer knew that no price was too great to cleanse the world of this evil. And as God was his witness, he would not shrink from the task.


	23. Chapter 23 - Sundowner

**Chapter 23 – Sundowner**

 **AN**

We're nearing the end now, and as you'll see, things are getting complicated as the war starts to turn the Magicals way. I suspect I'll be making this point a lot in coming weeks, but I would ask everyone to remember that this is simply just a fan fiction story, not some sort of personal statement of beliefs, because it most certainly isn't. It's not my intention to denigrate any nationality, or anyone's religion in the slightest. Remember, this is also being presented from the points of view of two specific people: Harry and Jeff Mayer, and so will be coloured by their interpretation of events. In short, don't take anything in this story personally!

Blimey, I bet there's not many Harry Potter stories that need that sort of disclaimer, are there?

Huge thanks as always to the ever wonderful Arnel.

* * *

L'Inflexible was the pride of the French fleet. Captain Deramond had been in command of the ballistic missile submarine for nearly two years now, but he'd never experienced anything like the last few weeks before. Normally, his submarine would be cruising deep in the waters of the Atlantic, silent and undetectable, but today they were barely two hundred kilometres off the coast of France in the Bay of Biscay. The C-in-C of the Atlantic fleet had wanted the boat near to home in case they needed to change the targeting of their missiles again.

That was the thing that really made Deramond nervous: his missiles' target settings. Ten days ago they'd been recalled to port and the boat's targeting computer had been hurriedly reprogrammed. Previously, his missiles had been aimed at the former Soviet Union, but now they were programmed to hit targets in France itself. The warheads had been replaced, too, and the multiple re-entry vehicles replaced by single, low-yield warheads. This made him very nervous, too.

"Time to make the next turn," the Navigation Officer reminded him.

Deramond glanced at his watch and nodded.

"Starboard ten, speed eight knots," he told the helmsman, who repeated the order. A moment later, he could feel the eight thousand tonne vessel begin to change direction.

"Make depth one hundred metres," he added, wishing they could dive deeper. Unfortunately, every hour they were being forced to deploy their ultra-low frequency communication buoy to check for orders from CECLANT. It ran very much against his training and instincts, but was regrettably necessary. Damn those Magicals.

"Do you want to run another firing drill later?" his Executive Officer asked.

"No, we'll leave it until…"

Deramond never finished his sentence, as suddenly he was sent flying from his chair as a terrific jolt shook the submarine.

"Sir, we've lost propulsion!" the Helmsman yelled.

Climbing to his feet, Deramond tried to figure out what happened. There was no panic, he was pleased to see. Men who panicked had no place on a nuclear submarine.

"Engines and reactor?" he demanded.

"Both functioning normally," a crewman reported. "The reactor is completely stable."

"Sir, I think somethings fouled the propeller," the Helmsman said.

Captain Deramond cursed. That would mean they would need to surface to inspect it and make repairs if necessary. That was practically a cardinal sin for a missile boat such as themselves.

"Try increasing revolutions, see if we can't shake whatever it is loose," he ordered.

The helmsman manipulated the controls, but Deramond could tell it wasn't working. He sighed bitterly.

"Get a work party together with cutting gear," he ordered. "Comms: send a flash signal to CECLANT stating that we've been forced to surface due to a fouled propeller and give our location. I guess there's nothing for it. Sound the alarm and take us to the surface."

A klaxon started to sound all about the submarine and Deramond could feel the boat moving again. Rather than the normal gradual upwards movement he would have expected, however, he could sense the submarine rising vertically through the water.

He rose and headed for the conning tower. Hurriedly, he climbed the ladder until he reached the main hatch and waited for confirmation that the boat had surfaced. It came less than a minute later, and he unfastened the pressure locks and pushed the hatch open. The pleasant warmth of the sun hit his face and fresh air filled his lungs; a rare treat for a submariner on a long cruse. He clambered out onto the tower and instinctively looked around him. The horizon appeared to be clear and no aircraft were in sight.

His next task was to take a couple of steps to the rear of the conning tower so he could look back at the aft of the sub and potentially see what had fouled their propeller. Instead, what he saw made his jaw drop.

Sitting cross-legged on the rear deck, right over the missile tubes, was a small girl. She was stunningly beautiful with long golden air and a look of complete innocence on her face. She was quite simply the loveliest child he had ever seen.

Seeing him look at her, the child gave a happy wave.

"Hello," she called cheerfully, her accent suggesting she was from Northern France.

"Hello," he replied, uncertain what else to say. How on earth had the girl gotten here? What was she doing… wait! There was only one way the little girl could have got here. She had to be a Magical!

Quickly, Deramond groped for his pistol which was holstered on his belt. He had no sooner drawn it than it was wrenched from his hands by some unseen force and cast into the sea. It sank immediately.

"Really! Threatening a child with a gun? You should be ashamed of yourself, Monsieur!" a voice said.

Deramond spun round, and came face to face with a stunningly beautiful woman. She bore a striking resemblance to the child, but was probably too young to be her mother. A sister perhaps? What really shocked him, however, was the fact the woman was sitting on a broomstick, hovering in the air just a few meters away from him. She was also holding a wand which was pointed directly at him.

"Witch!" he spat.

"Yes, what gave it away?" the woman asked sarcastically. Behind him, he could hear the small girl giggle.

"Sorry about Gabrielle, there," the witch said apologetically. "I couldn't really leave her at home, you see. She gets herself into the most terrible trouble when she's unsupervised."

Deramond looked back over his shoulder at the girl, who was grinning at him mischievously. He turned back to the floating witch.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"In ten minutes we will be sinking this submarine," she said in a no-nonsense tone. "You and your men have that time to send a distress signal and abandon ship."

"Are you mad?" he gasped. "This is an eight thousand tonne submarine! How do you propose to sink this vessel? With your little stick, perhaps?"

"Oh, I have a little help," she said, smiling evilly, and pointed to the aft of the boat.

Deramond looked back, past the little girl who had now climbed to her feet and was waving at something in the sea. Peering into the dark waters, he suddenly noticed a creature floating next to the submarine. It had greyish skin and wild, green hair. It was very clearly not human.

"What the hell is that?" he exclaimed in horror.

"Why, that's one of the Merpeople," the witch replied. "There are around two dozen of them, swarming around your pretty little submarine even as we speak. It was they who stopped your propeller and they are currently removing it entirely. Once they do, I imagine your boat will start leaking, a bit."

"It will take more than that to sink us!" he sneered defiantly at her.

"Yes, I rather thought so. Gabrielle, get out of the way, please."

"Yes, Fleur," the girl said happily, and produced her own broom from out of thin air. Deramond watched in fascination as she swung her leg over the wooden shaft and rose up off the deck of the submarine.

"Ah, she'll be a wonderful flyer, one day," the witch said fondly. "Not as good as me, of course, but still pretty good."

Then, without warning, the witch waved her wand and one of the missile hatches ripped open with a terrible sound of metal grinding on metal. The protective tube the M-4 missile was housed in was now clearly visible.

"Oh, my God!" he gasped.

"Now, do I have to tear this submarine apart, or will you do as I asked?" the witch asked in a cold voice.

Seeing that he had no choice, Deramond walked over to the conning station and hit the intercom.

"All hands, all hands; abandon ship! I repeat; abandon ship. This is not a drill. Comms: activate the emergency distress signal before leaving."

He turned and looked at the witch who was smiling sweetly at him.

"Good boy. Now, I do hope no one will be foolish enough to bring a gun with them. I would hate to have to Stun them. It makes swimming so difficult when you're unconscious, don't you think?"

"We will give you no trouble," he promised.

Half an hour later, Fleur and Gabrielle where flying back towards the mainland, the L'Inflexible slowly sinking towards the ocean floor behind them and her crew all floating helplessly in their inflatable lifeboats.

"That was fun!" Gabrielle called over, her hair streaming behind her in the wind.

"Yes, it was," Fleur smiled. "We couldn't have done it with the Merpeople, though. We'd never have even known where the submarine was."

"What do we do now?" the small witch asked.

"Head back home and wait for our friends to find the next submarine for us to sink," Fleur replied. "I just hope Bill is doing as well as us over in Britain."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Flames lit up the night, illuminating the wreckage that lay strewn about the parade ground. From his vantage point, Harry could see a number of uniformed bodies lying prone on the tarmac. The stupid bastards should have surrendered while they had the chance.

"A most excellent fight, Mr Potter," Fangtooth grinned evilly. "Shall we burn those other buildings?"

"Might as well," Harry shrugged and watched the goblin run off into the darkness, no doubt to gather his troops.

Fangtooth was a warrior caste leader and commanded all the goblin warriors in Wales. He and his fellow goblins had needed surprisingly little encouragement to join the fight against the Muggles, and, indeed, they seemed to be having the time of their lives.

Their current target was Brecon Army Depot, selected as it was being used as a staging base for attacks against Magicals throughout Southern Wales. Harry and his friends had joined the goblins in infiltrating the base under the cover of darkness, and destroying everything in sight. The goblins had proved especially deadly fighting amongst the buildings, and many soldiers had died having never seen the small creatures lunging at them from behind cover.

Seeing there was nothing he could do here, Harry threw his Invisibility Cloak over his head and started to jog back to where he'd left his friends. He found them crouching behind a low wall near the guardhouse at the entrance to the base.

"Everything okay, Harry?" Ginny asked before he'd even removed the cloak.

"Yeah, the goblins are really good at this stuff," he said, smiling as he slipped the cloak from him.

"It's uncanny how she does that," Ron muttered.

"What are we doing now?" Hermione asked. "Are we heading home now?"

"Nah, the goblins are just burning the last of the buildings. We'll hold here and give them cover while they're finishing off," he informed them.

"Well, I don't think the Muggles will be using this place again, anyway," Ginny noted. The few buildings left standing were on fire, and even the guardhouse next to them was little more than a shell.

"No, I don't… what was that?" Harry asked suddenly.

"It sounds like a tracked vehicle," Hermione said, peering into the darkness. "I don't see anything… no, wait! There! Up the street, I can see a tank!"

"Two tanks, actually," Harry noted in a detached voice. "Toot, toot; here comes the cavalry."

"Blimey, what are those things? Are they alive?" Ron gasped.

"Don't be silly. Haven't you looked at any of those books about Muggle armaments, at all?" Hermione asked in an exasperated voice. "They're big, armoured machines with a large gun mounted in a turret and several machine guns. Those are called Challengers, I think, and have a crew of four. They're very dangerous."

"There are people inside those things?" Luna asked in surprise. "How do they see out?"

"They have periscopes they look out of," Hermione explained. "Actually, I'm pretty sure those things have thermal sights on them, too, so they'll be able to see our body heat. We'd better get out of here."

"So what happens when you cover up those periscopes?" Luna persisted.

"I don't know. The tank would still function but I don't suppose they would be able to see anything," Hermione replied.

"Let's see, shall we?" Luna grinned.

Peering over the low wall, Luna aimed her wand at the leading tank, which was approaching at a surprising speed. A jet of pinkish, red light burst from the tip and hit the tank head on. A second later, the vehicle, which had been painted dark green and black, abruptly became bright pink all over. The crew, who suddenly had their vision cut off by a mass of pink paint, slammed on the brakes causing the tank to skid slightly before stopping. Unfortunately for them, the second tank hadn't been expecting them to halt suddenly, and ploughed straight into the first vehicle with an almighty crash. The main gun of the second tank actually bent as it rammed the other vehicle's turret.

The crew in the first vehicle had by now started to panic and opened fire blindly with their machine guns. The fire was actually more dangerous to the civilian houses that lined the road leading to the base than to Harry and his friends. Under cover of the machine gun fire, Harry saw the top hatch of the tank pop open and a head look cautiously out. A moment later, a bolt of red light hit the man squarely in the face and he dropped back down into the vehicle.

"Good shot, Ron," Harry praised.

"Yeah, not bad, was it?" Ron laughed. "Don't you think we should stop that thing firing at us, though? It's a bit annoying."

"My turn, I think," Hermione announced. "I've been practicing my Transfiguration especially for a moment like this."

She too cast a spell at the tank, causing the main gun to start bending like it was made of rubber. It soon bent over, blocking the fire of the tank's machine gun that was mounted next to it. Eventually, the long barrel wrapped itself around the turret completely, preventing either of the guns being used.

"I'll just Transfigure the machine gun mounted on the top, and then I think we're done here," Hermione announced in a smug voice.

"I would have loved to hear how the tank crew explain this to their commanding officer," Harry laughed. "Well, sir, the gun barrel was straight when we took the vehicle out…"

"Come on, Harry, I think the goblins have finished burning everything down. I want a good meal followed by a long soak in the bath," Ginny said.

"Yeah, that is a good idea," Ron agreed.

"Sorry, Ron, I'm not allowing you to share a bath with me. I don't think we've done that since I was about two," Ginny informed him. "I might let Harry, though."

Laughing, the friends all Apparated back to Grimmauld Place. As Harry left, he reflected that the war was actually starting to turn in their favour. Maybe the Muggles just might be forced to start negotiating, after all.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"You've got how many airplanes left?" Mayer nearly shouted.

"Around thirty-three operational combat aircraft," the Air Vice-Marshall admitted. "A few Harrier jump jets that we managed to disperse before their airfields were attacked, but the majority of the remaining planes are based in Germany, although I don't think they'll last long."

"Why not?"

"The Magicals have developed a new weapon; a small, metal ball that can fly without any visible means of propulsion. They just aim them roughly at an aircraft, and this bloody thing takes off like a bat out of hell. It then explodes on contact. My pilots can outrun them if they see them in time, but the damn things are hellishly small. These things are often programmed to fly around an airfield and attack planes either taking off or landing."

"They're being used all over the world, too," a Squadron Leader added. "Clearly, the Magicals are communicating amongst themselves, because this idea is being used everywhere. The US Air Force reports thirty-eight per cent loses already."

"I'm afraid our bombing campaign is at an end," the Air Vice-Marshall acknowledged.

"Damn it!" Mayer raged. "Can the army take up the slack? We still have hundreds of potential targets to take out."

"I'm not sure we can," a General explained. "Of course, it's difficult enough attacking something we can't actually see, but in addition the Magicals have been laying ambushes for us. They can pop in and out in a split second, and take out dozens of our troops at a time. The casualty figures are appalling. Our best option has been using artillery or direct tank fire. We've brought a full armoured division back from Germany just for this purpose, and have another arriving back next week. It's a dangerous business, though, and I can't guarantee the results will always be worth it. I'm sure most of the buildings we destroy are empty."

"We lost another submarine, yesterday," an Admiral added. "HMS Superb; lost with all hands. We still don't know what did for her."

"You won't have much of a navy left at this rate, will you?" the General noted grimly.

The Admiral said nothing but looked angry. Portsmouth Naval Base had been attacked a few days before by some unseen underwater assailant. Strange exploding egg-like objects had been attached to the underside of most of the ships, sinking nearly all of them. The aircraft carrier HMS Illustrious was currently sitting on the harbour bottom with only her upper decks visible over the water.

"You'll have to bring all the troops back from Germany," Mayer said resolutely. "We need those men."

"It's not that easy," the man pointed out. "There were over fifty thousand troops in Germany. It takes time to bring them back. Not to mention their dependants, their fuel, ammunition, vehicle spares. And where do you put them when they get here? Luckily, most of the soldiers who have arrived so far have been sent straight into the field, but we'll need billets for them eventually. We've already had a dozen bases attacked and rendered useless. Add to that all the reserves we've called up and we're struggling."

"I don't wanna hear excuses!" Mayer raged. "We'll lose this goddamn war if we're not careful!"

A sullen silence fell on the room.

"Perhaps we could hear about the bigger picture," the P.M. said. "What's going on elsewhere in the world?"

Mayer glanced at him. He thought the recent kidnapping of the Prime Minister had done something to the man. He seemed more furtive and less decisive than before. Although he'd only been held a few hours, it had definitely had an effect on him. Thoughtfully, he turned back to where the intelligence officer was about to start his portion of the briefing.

"The situation is very much still a bit of a mixed bag. Most notable success has been in areas of South America, particularly Brazil and Chile, where they've managed to eliminate large parts of their magical communities very efficiently. Unfortunately, trouble is cropping up in areas we previously thought were clear. For instance, China hasn't been quite as effective at suppressing the Magicals as we thought. It turns out large groups of them have previously taken refuge in the mountainous areas of Tibet over the years, and quite a large community has grown up there. These Magicals are now attacking the Chinese Government forces and causing a lot of problems."

"Great, so the Commies have been lying to us for years, have they? Just great," Mayer groaned.

"We're still not sure about how enthusiastically the Indians are going about their task, either," the officer explained. "There seems to be areas in the north of the country that the military are avoiding. They could be havens for Magicals in that region. There's been increased violence throughout the Middle East, too. Yemen and Egypt have been hit especially hard, and a major part of Cairo was burnt down last week."

"Dear God," someone muttered.

"What about closer to home?" the P.M. asked.

"Well, France is now a virtual warzone. Their Air Force and Navy have ceased to exist as a recognisable force, and the Army is scattered and demoralised. There have been reports of mass desertions as the soldiers are simply going home to defend their families. In short, the place is a complete mess."

"Should have nuked 'em when they had the chance," Mayer noted bitterly.

"It's a very different proposition dropping the bomb on a region in the South of France, than launching a nuclear attack on a largely deserted area of Scotland," the Foreign Minister pointed out mildly.

"Yeah, but look at the mess they're in now," Mayer retorted.

"The French Magicals are now so well entrenched that they've started to offer support to their neighbours. French Magicals have been operating in Germany and Spain. Spain, by the way, is in serious danger of going the same way as France. It appears a lot of the success they previously reported was fabricated. Their government have even started making emergency evacuation plans, I'm told."

"Bit rough on the rest of the population," someone noted.

"Scandinavia is looking rough, as are large swathes of Eastern Europe. Only Russia seems to be in total control, and I understand they've started deploying troops to their troubled neighbouring nations, whether they ask for the help or not."

"Can we reign them in? If they're not careful, they'll end up starting World War Three," Mayer sighed.

"They appear to be well on the way to achieving that. The Ukrainian government, for instance, has demanded all Russian troops leave their country immediately or face being attacked. Georgia has said much the same."

There were a lot of unhappy faces in the briefing room.

"Let me talk to my contacts. I might be able to get the Russians to pull back," Mayer said in a weary voice.

Desperately, he started to scribble a plan of action on a piece of jotting paper. It seemed like he had a million and one things he needed to do suddenly, and no time to do it. Nevertheless, he needed to persevere, because at the moment it felt like everything was falling apart, and he was damned if he was going let that happen.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Bill!"

The tall redhead barely had time to look around before his beautiful girlfriend launched herself into his arms.

"Fleur!" he cried in delight. "You're back!"

"Oui, I arrived back zis morning," she replied, before covering his face with kisses.

"Someone's happy to see him," Ginny sniggered from her seat at the kitchen table.

"I think he's pretty pleased to see her, too," Harry noted, before spotting the small blonde girl who had followed Fleur into the room. "Oh, hello, Gabrielle."

"Bonjour, 'Arry," she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Ginny cleared her throat and locked eyes with the ten-year-old. Whatever silent battle they then waged was evidently won by Ginny, as Gabrielle huffed and sulkily sat in a chair near her sister. Harry made the immediate decision to ignore the incident and not ask Ginny about it, despite his curiosity. Age, he felt, was definitely bringing him wisdom in that regard.

"I wasn't expecting you until next week," Bill said enthusiastically. "Can I get you anything, love? A coffee?"

"Zat would be nice," she smiled. "Things are going well in France, non? We 'ave been able to spare people to 'elp out elsewhere. Of course I must come and support my 'andsome fiancée."

"What's happing in France, exactly?" Harry asked eagerly.

"We are doing well. Most of ze army has deserted and ze air force is all destroyed. We even overrun ze nuclear missiles base in Vaucluse. We were lucky. Zhey never managed to track down our Ministry of Magic, zo we were able to fight a co-ordinated battle from day one. Ze Muggle government fell last week, and we are in virtual control."

"That's great!" Ginny said enthusiastically. "France will be the first, and after a few more Muggle governments collapse, they're bound to have to start negotiating."

"I'm not so sure," her father disagreed, having just entered the room. "From what I'm hearing, the fight isn't going too well in other parts of the world. The Russians have all but slaughtered every witch or wizard in their country, and I hear they've started sending troops into Eastern Europe."

"This is turning into a truly global conflict, isn't it?" Harry pondered. "I wonder what Voldemort would have thought of all this. He'd probably have been delighted."

"Probably," Ginny agreed sourly.

"Anyway, it's good to see you, Fleur, and your help is very welcome," Harry smiled.

"Err, why did you bring Gabby with you?" Bill asked.

"My parents are so busy at ze moment, zhey 'av no time to look after 'er," Fleur explained before staring at her Gabrielle with a frown. "She 'as been ze big 'elp."

Gabrielle just smirked in the way only especially annoying little sisters are capable of.

"So, have you got any good tips on bringing down a Muggle government?" Ginny asked. "You French seem to have done admirably with that."

"Indeed, and I think I can 'elp. We discovered zat just attacking ze military is not enough. You 'av to start 'itting ze infrastructure of ze country, and taking out ze political leadership."

"You should talk to our planning team," Harry smiled.

"Yeah, if they've finished shagging upstairs," Ginny muttered.

"What?" Mr Weasley asked.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "Umm, welcome aboard, Fleur. It's great to have you here!"

The French girl beamed radiantly.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Sir, we have a problem! The Chinese have made their move."

Mayer looked up in surprise as Simon barged into the room without knocking. That was an unheard of breech of etiquette on his assistant's behalf.

"What's the problem, Simon?" Mayer asked, realising it must be pretty serious for the young man to behave so.

"Sir, at approximately five a.m. local time, the Chinese launched a series of five nuclear strikes at the mountain range their dissident Magicals have established themselves. Two of the explosions were estimated to be in the ten megaton range; we thought the largest warhead they had was about five! The other three were of a high kiloton yield. The explosions occurred nearly simultaneously in a tight pattern covering approximately twenty miles. Our analysts predict total target annihilation."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" Mayer asked hesitantly.

"No, sir, not good at all," Simon replied grimly. "Not only did the blast radius extend into Nepal, the Chinese also apparently forgot to check the weather. There's a strong southerly wind blowing in the region at the moment."

"Oh, God," he muttered, the impact of Simon's words sinking in.

"The combined blasts have created a huge, radioactive dust cloud approximately one hundred and fifty miles long. The nukes appear to have been quite 'dirty', and the cloud lethal. Exposure of only a few minutes will result in death in only a few hours."

"Where's the cloud now?" Mayer asked with a sinking feeling.

"It crossed Nepal at an altitude of around seven thousand feet, dispensing fallout as it went. As most people were asleep when it passed, the death toll is quite high. Unfortunately, it kept going and crossed over into India. It's passed the towns of Basti and Faizabad, and is now drifting southwest towards Lucknow and Kanpur."

"Estimated casualties?"

"Difficult to say, but it could be millions by the time this is finished," Simon said quietly.

"Oh, sweet Jesus. Those Chinese were always too damn headstrong!" Mayer raged. "What's the response so far from India?"

"They've vowed to retaliate. It appears they got wind the Chinese were planning something like this a while back and warned them that they wouldn't stand for it. It appears that the Chinese ignored them."

"Why didn't we know about this?" Mayer demanded wearily.

"We were too busy with other things," Simon shrugged.

"This could be the greatest humanitarian crisis the world has ever seen," he murmured. "Not to mention the war against the Magicals appears to be going to hell. France is practically a goddamn wizard republic, and Spain is nearly the same. I pity the poor bastards living there."

"Sir, have you heard about the latest attacks here?" Simon asked. "They attacked three different power stations last night. The National Grid state there will be intermittent power outages, and if they lose any more stations the situation could get much worse."

Mayer stood and walked to the window. London looked peaceful in the early morning light, something that offended him for some reason.

"Oh, Lord, why have you turned against me?" he asked plaintively.

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

John and Jane Granger lounged on the sofa watching the telly. Although neither of them voiced it out loud, they both hated the small semi-detached safe house the government had placed them in. It was small and functional, but in comparison their own four-bed Victorian house back in Winchester, this place felt cramped and oppressive. Add to that a lingering fear that the Magicals might try and extract revenge on them for them allowing their daughter to be used as bait to trap Harry Potter, and life was not exactly a bed of roses.

Indeed, life had become in equal parts dull and terrifying. Every day, they sat and watch on television as the world around them seemed to fall apart. The fact that their precious Hermione was part of the reason it was disintegrating made it all the harder to bear.

"What's on next?" Jane asked without enthusiasm. She would never have believed she could ever have turned into a couch potato, soaking up gameshows and soap operas with equal devotion.

"Coronation Street," John replied absently. "Mind you, I think Mastermind is on the other side…"

The screen suddenly went blank for a second, before a message appeared advising them to stand by for a message from the Prime Minister. Both the Grangers glanced fearfully at each other before looking back at the screen apprehensively. They had learnt by now that such messages never meant anything good.

"My fellow citizens," the Prime Minister said as soon as his face appeared on the screen, "I speak to you at a time of national crisis. Not only has our country been ravaged by the despicable actions of evil terrorists, but the international situation has taken a deadly turn."

"Oh, God, what now?" John muttered.

"You will all be aware of the recent nuclear strikes carried out by the People's Republic of China, and the disastrous effect their reckless action has had on the innocent people of India. Unfortunately, Russia has publicly supported the Chinese in this, to the point of threatening direct military action against India if they do not step up their own efforts to suppress the terrorists known as 'the Magicals' within their borders. While we in Britain would also agree more needs to be done to eliminate those terrorists in India, we deplore Russia's insensitivity in making these demands when the country is dealing with the largest humanitarian crisis in history. We join the USA in condemning Russia and China, and in warning both nations that we will not tolerate any further strikes on India."

"Jesus, it almost sounds like we're at war!" John gasped.

"We are already at war," Jane said bitterly. "Perhaps they've forgotten about it?"

"In the meantime, the activities of the Magicals continue to cause outrage and despair amongst the good people of Britain. Recent attacks on power stations have reduced this country's electrical generating capabilities by nearly fifty per cent, and I'm afraid I must announce that there will be more planned power cuts in the coming days to conserve energy. You will be notified of the timings of these shortly."

"Great, no telly," Jane sulked.

"Regrettably, even harsher action is required if we are to beat this menace. In a closed session of Parliament today, a state of National Emergency has been announced. Effective immediately, the security services now have the right of arrest and detention where just reasonable doubt exists that the individual is law abiding. There is no limit to the period that suspects can be detained. In addition, a curfew will come into effect from nine o'clock this evening and anyone found outside after that time without a special permit is liable to arrest. If you are unable to comply with this order then you must contact the police immediately."

John and Jane just looked at each other in horror. Were things really this bad?

"Finally, I would urge you all to remain calm and resilient. Although we face dark times, this country has faced similar threats in the past and prevailed! We are a nation of fighters, and we will never surrender or break. Take heart, my friends, and I wish you a pleasant evening."

The screen went black.

"A state of National Emergency? Martial law?" John exclaimed.

"It might as well be," Jane agreed. "Oh, John! What can we do? Our own daughter is part of all this. Where did we go wrong with her?"

"We should never have let her go to that blasted school!" John spat. "Magic! We should have known it would turn out to be some damn cult!"

"We've lost her forever, haven't we?" Jane said sadly.

"I fear we have," John agreed, "but, you know, it's not too late to think about having another child."

"John, do you really think so?"

"I do, my love," John said. "Perhaps we could start working on one soon?"

Jane laughed. "Well, it will give us something to do during the power cuts."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It seemed strange to move through such a large city in complete darkness. The combination of another planned power outage and the newly imposed curfew meant that the streets of Birmingham were eerily quiet.

Mad-Eye Moody led them along the darkened street. For a change, he was wearing trousers with both legs still attached in an effort to hide his distinct disability. Unfortunately, his lurching gait would have signalled to the dullest observer that there was something unusual about him. It was probably just as well that they hadn't run into any Muggle patrols.

Moody suddenly turned into a small side street and approached a small convenience store. In the inky blackness, Harry could just see a man lounging idly against the door. The man's magical aura was distinctly evident, however.

Hurriedly, the man opened the door and allowed them to enter. He then followed them in, closing and locking the door behind them. With the aid of his lit wand, he then guided them into the back of the shop which was well illuminated by candles. In what was presumably a storage area were huddled around thirty witches and wizards. They looked up when Harry, Ginny and Moody entered, before breaking out into a spontaneous round of applause.

Harry stepped forward with a grin and raised his hand to quieten them.

"Hello, everyone," he said by way of greeting. "We're very glad to be here tonight."

"Welcome, Mr Potter, welcome," a tall, dark-skinned wizard said, stepping forward. "My name is Chester Bartholomew and I'm the leader of this group. Can I say how honoured we are to have you and Miss Weasley here?"

"The honour is ours," Harry replied graciously. This was the fourth such visit to local resistance groups that he'd made and was starting to get the hang of it. He shuddered to think how inept he'd seemed during the first one.

"I think you'll find a few familiar faces amongst our ranks. I know one young lady who was particularly eager to say hello," Chester smiled.

"Hi, Harry!" a beaming Cho Chang said, hurrying over.

"Cho! It's good to see you. I'm glad you're alright," Harry said with a smile.

"Yes, although it was touch and go for a while. My Gran wasn't so lucky, I'm afraid. Hi, Ginny, are you okay?" she asked turning to the small redhead who was standing next to Harry.

"Hello, Cho. I'm afraid I've been better. The bastards wiped half my family out. I'm sorry to hear about your Gran, though," Ginny replied in a neutral voice.

"I think we've all lost someone in this bloody war," Chester said bitterly.

"I've… I've actually got someone I'd like you both to meet," Cho said nervously, before waving over a young, Asian-looking man. He was tall and handsome, but Harry couldn't help but frowning at him. There was definitely something off about the bloke.

"I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Azmat Begg," Cho began. "I met him a few months ago and he's…"

"A Muggle!" Ginny exclaimed.

For a second, Harry could only stare in surprise at the young man. He spent so little time around Muggles these days that he'd forgotten how they looked at close quarters. Everyone else in the room had a faint glow that came from their magical auras; invisible to most people but clearly evident to him and Ginny. Begg had no such glow, and to Harry's eyes looked strangely drab and slightly repellent. Clearly, the war had changed his thoughts about Muggles radically.

"Yes, he is, but please don't hold that against him," Cho pleaded. "Azmat is totally loyal to us and strongly disagrees with the actions of the Muggle government. Don't you, love?"

"That's right," Azmat agreed in a strong, Brummie accent. "What the government have done is inexcusable. It's like the Nazis and the Jews all over again. Trust me, as a Muslim, I know what it's like to be discriminated against."

Harry happened to glance in the direction of the other witches and wizards around the room, who were all looking on with neutral expressions. He happened to catch the eye of an elderly witch who just shrugged very slightly at him. The message was clear: the group tolerated Azmat for Cho's sake, but didn't entirely trust him. He could understand that sentiment.

"Umm, Cho? We're about to give you all a briefing on how the war is going at a national and international level, and a lot of what we have to say is quite sensitive information. Perhaps it would be best if Azmat…" Harry began.

"Harry! Azmat has been privy to all our plans and secrets, and he hasn't betrayed our trust once! Why do you think he would, just because he's a Muggle? Harry Potter, I can't believe you. I would never have believed that you of all people would be a racist," Cho raged.

"Maybe he's found out the hard way what Muggles are like," Ginny said in a low, dangerous voice. "Maybe we all have."

"Potter's right," Mad-Eye said firmly before Cho could respond. "I'm sorry, laddie, but we can't afford to take any risks at this stage of the game. Potter and Weasley are too important to jeopardise through a security leak. You'll have to wait outside."

"You can't be serious!" Cho cried.

"Cho… it's alright," Azmat said wearily. "They're right; they don't know me, at all. Hopefully, I can prove myself to them later, but for now I'll just go and wait upstairs."

"I think that's for the best," Chester said approvingly.

Cho turned on the man with fury in her eyes, but she held her tongue. Without another word, she stomped back to her seat and glared at Harry. Harry found he had little sympathy with his former girlfriend. He could see the evident relief on the faces of the rest of the group and he wondered how Cho could be surprised by Chester's words. A Muggle in their midst made everyone nervous, and as Moody had said, they couldn't afford to take risks.

"Perhaps we'd better get things started," Harry announced. "Chester, I like to kick things off by hearing what your group has been up to and what your future plans are."

"Of, course," Chester said enthusiastically. "I've had various members prepare a briefing for you. Silvia, would you do the honours?"

"It would be my pleasure," a rather elegant witch said with a smile, and walked to the center of the room.

For the next forty minutes, Silvia, aided by a number of others, briefed them on what the Birmingham based group had been doing. Harry had to admit he was impressed. This group seemed rather more organised then a few of the others he'd visited, and had used their time and resources wisely. Devastating blows had been delivered against local military targets and the city's infrastructure. Birmingham as a viable commercial centre had nearly ground to a halt and the streets were a virtual no-go area for the police and army. A recent operation by a large army unit had been defeated with heavy loss to the Muggles, and New Street was apparently still littered with burnt out tanks and armoured personal carriers.

In turn, Harry briefed them on what was happening beyond the shores of their country. He was in regular contact with the ICW, who were by now able to coordinate with the remaining magical communities throughout the word. He explained how the Muggles were starting to turn against each other and that they were on the verge of war.

"Of course, this also poses danger to us," he told them. "The Americans and us British are lining up against the Russians and Chinese, both of whom seem to be using this conflict as an opportunity to grab more land and to take out their enemies. As both countries have pretty much succeeded in killing every witch or wizard within their borders, they apparently feel secure enough to start looking to expand elsewhere. With the Western armies in chaos, thanks to us, the only defence they have is their arsenal of nuclear weapons. We've managed to thin these out a bit, but we think the British government still has at least two ballistic missile submarines operational, and the Yanks still have a huge force of subs, bombers and missile silos. If they start trading blows with the Chinese and Russians, it could end up destroying the world."

"What are we doing about it?" someone asked.

"We did think about asking the American magical groups to try and concentrate their efforts on the nuclear weapons, but they're pretty hard pressed as it is. Besides, it might be counterproductive. It could be the only thing stopping the Russians chucking more missiles about is the threat of those American weapons."

"Bloody Muggles," Chester cursed. "They'll end up blowing up the entire planet the way they're going."

"You might be right, my friend, but we have more immediate things to worry about," Harry said. "Your future action plans are excellent, but I would ask you to give special attention to taking out any local power generation capabilities, and including such things as petroleum storage and refining facilities. The Muggles are struggling to operate without their precious electricity, and the more power we can rob them of, the closer we are to victory."

That brought a cheer from the group, and signalled the end of the meeting. As everyone started to leave, Harry intercepted Cho, who appeared to be trying to hurry out of the room without speaking to him.

"Cho, I'm sorry about Azmat, but you have to understand that this is all too important to risk in any way," he told her.

"Risk? What risk?" Cho demanded. "Azmat has been involved with this group for nearly two months, and if he wanted to betray us he would have had ample opportunity by now."

"Unless he was waiting for something really good to take to the government," Harry argued. "Maybe just being party to one local group's plans wasn't big enough for him."

"Listen to yourself!" Cho spat, before she narrowed her eyes at him. "Is this really about Azmat being a Muggle, Harry? Are you sure you're not just jealous of him?"

Harry actually snorted.

"No, Cho, I assure you I'm not jealous of him. I have no feelings for you any more other than that of a friend. I love Ginny more than I can say, and I'm not interested in anyone other than her."

"Well, in that case all I can say is that you've changed, Harry," Cho said bitterly. "I never thought I'd see the day when you started acting like a Malfoy!"

And with that, she turned and stalked out the room. Harry watched her go sadly.

"Neither did I, Cho," he muttered quietly.

"You didn't have a choice," Ginny said, having come up behind him silently. "We're just starting to get on top, and we can't afford any slipups."

"I know," he said, turning and taking her into his arms, "but doesn't it feel like Cho was right, sometimes? I never used to believe that crap Draco used to spout about Muggles, but it seems like we've bought into the whole concept."

"We didn't start this, Harry, and it's not like we're trying to kill them all, or even try and enslave them. We're just trying to bring them to the negotiating table, so we can have peace."

"Perhaps," he said forlornly, "but do you think we'll ever really know peace again?"

Ginny didn't answer.


	24. Chapter 24 – Edge of Darkness

**Chapter 24 – Edge of Darkness**

 **AN**

Yet another extensive author's note, but this one is slightly different.

Back in my notes in Chapter 1, I mentioned that this this story had been influenced by two awful books I bought on Kindle. The effect the first one had (a second-rate Tom Clancy style 'pre-history' WW3 story) is obvious, but the other, a book on Gnosticism, hasn't really made much of an impact… yet. Simply, this is the point where it does come into play and I'm slightly concerned that certain people might take offense from it.

I cannot stress this enough: the ideas put forward in this chapter do not reflect my own beliefs, or (I assume) of anyone on the site I'm publishing it on. This is not an attack on anyone's religion and is not intended to offend anyone. To put it bluntly, I read a book on Gnosticism and thought it contained some ideas that would be interesting to bring to the HP universe. In addition, Jeff Mayer is meant to be a deranged fanatic. There's always types like him who will take something and twist it to fit their own prejudices and irrational beliefs.

This is a story – nothing more, nothing less. Seriously, if anyone takes offense at this and accuses me of attacking their dearly-held beliefs, I will hunt them down and beat some sense into them with a wet haddock. This is a fan fiction story containing witches, wizards and dragons – view it in that context.

Huge thanks to Arnel for being my rock throughout this. Nearly to the end!

* * *

"…to the wizards and witches of Europe, I send greetings and hope you are all persevering in your struggles against the Muggles. We here in America are facing a tough time, but are also starting to see our efforts rewarded. More Muggle fighter planes are being destroyed each day, and the army has learnt to show us respect! We will continue to…"

Harry stared at the wireless set, wishing the person broadcasting would say something useful rather than just sprouting propaganda. Even so, it was gratifying to hear the voice of a wizard so far away and know that the fight was continuing on distant shores.

He glanced around the kitchen. Ginny was sitting next to him, a piping hot cup of tea cradled in her hands. Across the table, Gabrielle was drawing a picture. The French girl was an extremely talented artist and was currently drawing her 'dream castle' where she would, apparently, live one day with a handsome prince. Harry couldn't help but notice the handsome prince in her picture had messy black hair. He noticed that Ginny had noticed, too.

"Do you think Hermione has finished her latest battle plan?" Ginny asked languidly.

"Probably, as long as Ron hasn't distracted her again."

"Hmm, I'm not sure it's such a good idea letting those two work together unsupervised. I'm still having nightmares after walking in on them the other day," she said in disgust.

"What we're zey doing?" Gabrielle asked innocently.

"Nothing that would interest a ten-year-old," Ginny said firmly, before turning and muttering to Harry, "We really shouldn't have started teaching her English, you know."

Judging by the smug grin on Gabrielle's face, her English was a lot more advanced then they gave her credit for. Her hearing, too.

"Perhaps we should go and see what they…" Harry began, but was interrupted by a loud knocking on the front door.

They looked at each other in surprise. Everyone who knew of the existence of the house was keyed into the protective magic that surrounded the place and would simply have been able to walk in. Besides, most people came via the Floo. No one knocked.

"I'll see who it is," Harry said, rising from his chair.

"I'll cover you," Ginny decided, pulling out her wand. "Gabrielle, you stay here."

They hurried out into the hall and Harry approached the front door warily. He slowly turned the handle and pulled the door open a crack, before peering out. Whom he saw standing there shocked him.

"Mr Fortescue!" he exclaimed, pulling the door wide open.

"Hello, Harry. It's good to see you again," the man greeted him warmly.

"We thought you were dead! Your shop was just left wide open…"

"Yes, I had to leave in rather a hurry, I'm afraid. But still, that's part of the reason I've come here today. I need to talk with you quite urgently."

"Come in," Harry said, stepping to the side. He could see Ginny staring at the man suspiciously, but he was certain that this was most definitely Florean Fortescue. His magical aura was clearly evident and his mannerisms were the same as he remembered. Still, a little verification wouldn't hurt.

"I don't suppose you've brought any Neapolitan ice cream with you, have you? That was always my favourite," Harry said casually.

"Actually, I rather think it was the triple chocolate that you favoured," Florean replied with a grin. "You certainly ate enough of it that summer you stayed in Diagon Alley."

"It is you!" Harry exclaimed, stepping forward to shake the man's hand. "Come inside. Let's take a seat in the kitchen and have a cuppa while we talk."

"Excellent idea. I'm parched, I must confess. Ah, if my memory serves me, this beautiful young lady is a Weasley, is she not?"

"Ginny Weasley," she confirmed. "I'm surprised you remember me. You must have had enough kids pass through your place over the years."

"Ah, but the Weasleys are a bit more distinctive then most, you must admit," Florean laughed. "You, as I recall, loved strawberry ice cream, especially with chocolate sprinkles."

"Got it in one," Ginny said, favouring him with a bright smile. She was now clearly convinced by the man's identity, too.

They headed into the kitchen and offered Florean a seat. Gabrielle regarded the man nervously, but he soon had her at her ease. If there was one requirement that an ice cream seller needed, it was to be good with children.

"So, where have you been all this time?" Harry asked after placing a mug of tea in front of the man. Florean blew on it before taking a grateful sip.

"I've not always been an ice cream man, you know," he began conversationally. "After I left Hogwarts, I had ambitions to become a historian. I therefore embarked on a world tour with the intention to visit numerous historic magical sites around the globe. It was on this tour that I met a man… a man so wise and charismatic that I vowed to serve him for the rest of my days."

"Oh, really?" Harry said dubiously.

Florean just smiled at Harry's doubt. "I learnt many things from this person, and found peace within myself. I realised I had spent my entire life chasing after something I couldn't define. I had been a fool, but he taught me wisdom. Anyway, it had been my intention to stay with him my entire life, but circumstances meant that he had to leave for a place I couldn't follow. So, we parted company, but he left with the promise that he would return when the conditions permitted. Well, last summer he returned and told me the necessary conditions were nearly in place."

"I see," Harry nodded, not seeing at all.

"No, you don't, my young friend, but you will," Florean said kindly.

"You said you needed to talk with Harry," Ginny prompted.

"Indeed I did," Florean agreed. "You see, Harry, we are approaching a critical time for the human race. Events are unfolding at a phenomenal rate, and soon the last throw of the dice will be cast. Tell me, my young friend; this world of ours, this planet that we stand upon. What do you think of it?"

"Think of it?" Harry repeated in confusion. "I don't understand the question."

"Do you, for instance, think this is a perfect place?" Florean pressed.

Ginny snorted in disgust. "It's a pretty bloody long way from being perfect," she said.

"I totally agree, Miss Weasley, but don't you think that's strange?" Florean asked with a mysterious smile. "Nearly every organised religion in the world preaches that the universe was created by some all-powerful god. The Christian bible is a perfect example of this and actually states that God is immutable; he simply cannot be wrong. But if that's the case, why is this world of ours so imperfect? Why has a perfect being created an imperfect world?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "I always got the impression that the Christians believed that our time on this world was meant to be a test, and that if you were good enough you would go to heaven. Heaven is meant to be the perfect world, isn't it, not this place?"

"But why the need to test us? Again, that would suggest that humans are imperfect creations that are liable to sin. Why would a perfect god create these subjects who have the potential to fail him? More to the point, where is this heaven? This perfect world? Has anyone ever seen it? What evidence do we have that it even exists? You know better than most that the human soul moves on after death, Harry, but have you ever had any indication that destination is some sort of cosmic judgement where it is decided whether you go to heaven or to hell? Of course not. I've seen actual evidence that souls are reborn into new bodies, not just here on earth, but throughout the universe. The soul is eternal and is not destined to just rest in some, cloud-strewn paradise."

"Then why are things the way they are?" Harry demanded. "Are you saying that God is fallible?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Florean said. "The creator of this universe is flawed and so are all his creations."

"Okay, you can probably convince me that's true, but there's not a lot you or I can do about it, is there?" Harry reasoned, wondering exactly where this conversation was going.

"Did you know, that once upon a time every human had magical abilities?" Florean continued. "Before the fall of Atlantis and the cracking of the world, everyone could perform magic? The world has been in sorry decline ever since."

"Really? Then how were Muggles created?" Ginny asked, clearly fascinated.

"They were created by a vengeful God who felt his creations were starting to rival his own power too much. So he cracked the surface of the earth, sinking its greatest society beneath the waves, and robbed the rest of humanity of its ability to do magic. Even in that he failed."

"Wow," was all Harry could find to say.

"And now look at what these Muggles have become. Without magic, they have turned to science to enrich their lives, but in doing so have nearly lost their humanity. Every day, these people become more like the machines they rely upon. Everything is reduced to numbers and percentages. They have ceased to listen to their hearts and are guided purely by their heads! As an example of this I give you those dreadful atomic bombs they created. A more efficient way to kill people. But think of the horror of these devices: a wizard or witch would never create such a thing! If we have a grievance with someone, we seek them out and fight them wand to wand. These bombs kill indiscriminately. How could anyone justify burning the flesh off some new-born infant, just because they are at war with the country this child happens to live in? It's monstrous!"

"I suppose you should blame the politicians," Harry ventured.

"Yes, but they only exist because they are permitted to!" Florean said with some heat. "Humanity has become divided, and becomes more so every day. They divide themselves into these artificial little groups and become suspicious of everyone else. The Russians want to invade you! The Americans are all capitalist pigs! Oh, and don't get me started on the Germans! That's all you hear from these people. They are deeply, deeply flawed, and God's imperfect creation edges ever closer to destroying itself."

"Are you saying this is all some kind of divine plan?" Ginny asked in shock.

"Yes, it is," Florean confirmed. "The soul, as I said, is eternal. It cannot be destroyed, unless by the person themselves. God doesn't care if this world and everyone on it is reduced to a pile of radioactive dust. His slaves with still remain, and he will be able to rebuild somewhere else. Of course, whatever he creates will be flawed, because that's his nature."

"So, you're saying that no matter what we do, were doomed? Is that it?" Harry asked angrily.

"No, Harry, no, we're not, and this is why my master has returned now. You may not be able to fight the creator of this universe, but there are always alternatives to fighting."

"Like what?" Ginny demanded "Who exactly is this master of yours?"

"I believe you and Harry have already met him, and had a small taste of his wisdom," Florean smiled.

Harry looked at him blankly, but Ginny's face suddenly lit up.

"Hadraniel!" she exclaimed. "Your master is Hadraniel."

"You are correct, Miss Weasley," Florean confirmed.

"I knew there was something special about that man," she cried.

"Oh, there is indeed. But you will meet him again, soon enough. I came here today merely to give you a warning that things are coming to ahead very rapidly, and that the time for flight is fast approaching. I would suggest that you both pay close attention to the Muggle news in the coming weeks. I'll be in touch soon."

And with a last swig of his tea, Florean stood and headed out the door. Harry and Ginny were too shocked to even show him out.

"Oo was zat man?" Gabrielle asked in an awed voice.

Harry literally jumped in his seat. He'd forgotten the small French girl was still in the room.

"Well, sweetheart, if we're lucky, he was the herald for some greater power that has come to save humanity from itself," Ginny replied.

"And if we're unlucky?" Harry asked.

"Then he was some madman who's wasting our time," she shrugged.

"But you don't believe he is, do you?"

For a second, Ginny looked conflicted, but then she looked him firmly in the eye.

"No, I don't," she said.

"Neither do I," Harry admitted.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"No… no… don't worry, my dear. Yes, it will all be fine. I'll see you at the airport tomorrow afternoon. Yes, I love you, too. Bye."

Mayer hung up the phone and took a deep breath.

"So Mrs Mayer will be with us tomorrow, will she? Are you sure it's safe for her to fly?"

He looked over at Simon and offered him a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, Simon. The Magicals don't appear to be targeting commercial flights yet. Her plane will land at an airport well away from any military establishments. She'll be fine."

"But why now, sir?" Simon asked. "Why bring her to Britain at all? Especially as it's so dangerous."

"Where isn't dangerous?" he challenged. "No, I have a feeling that whatever's going to happen, this will be the hub of it. I have no idea when I'll be able to return to the States, and I want Susan here. Hell, I'm arranging to bring both my sons over as soon as possible, too."

"Why? Do you think things are coming to a head? This business in India…"

Mayer stood abruptly and stood in front of the window. He seemed to be doing this a lot lately, just staring out over the view of London. In his mind, he picture a mushroom cloud forming on the skyline and all the distinguished old buildings that had stood for centuries being blasted into dust.

"Has there been any further retaliation from either side?" he asked.

"No, sir. There has just been the single missile launched by the Indians. We're starting to get some accurate casualty figures from the Chinese, actually. It appears they had suspected the Indians might do this and dispersed their forces, somewhat. Even so, we estimate the nuke destroyed the best part of two entire Infantry Divisions, and crippled a third. The death toll is being put at between twenty-five to thirty thousand."

"Thank God they just went for a military target. Do we know how many more nukes they have?"

"At least sixty," Simon replied.

"And China?"

"Over two hundred. Of course, the Russians are now backing the Chinese to the hilt and accusing the Indians of siding with the Magicals. Intelligence suggests that if China responds to this, it might well be with Russia's full support. A joint strike is a possibility."

"And if they do, America and Britain will get dragged into it. There's no way we can stand back and let those bastards start nuking other countries at will."

"Sir…" Simon started reluctantly. "There's been some talk. With this crisis building, we'll be hard pressed to continue our war with the Magicals, too. It's been suggested that maybe we should try and reach an agreement with them…"

"NO!" Mayer bellowed, turning on his assistant angrily. "We will not stop the fight against those evil bastards. Hell, I'd rather surrender to the Russians than negotiate with those devil worshipers."

"Of course, sir," Simon agreed in a resigned voice.

"Don't you understand what this is? It's a test from God," Mayer explained in a calmer tone. "God is putting other challenges and temptations our way, to see if we will remain true to our goals. Well, my friend, I will never shirk from my responsibilities. I will not rest until the earth has been swept clean of the servants of Lucifer, and nothing or no-one will get in my way."

Simon said nothing, but remained standing, his face expressionless.

"Don't worry, Simon," Mayer assured him. "God is on our side, and we will prevail. The Chinese will see sense, and this will all blow over. We'll be able to concentrate on our real enemy, then."

"Of course, sir," Simon nodded, not sounding convinced. The young man then made his excuses and hurried out the door.

Mayer turned back to the window. Although he hadn't said so, he shared his assistant's misgivings. India and China were both vying to become the world's next global superpower, and neither of them should afford to back down. With so many dead on both sides, he just couldn't see the conflict deescalating.

"My lord, you do work in mysterious ways," he murmured.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Reluctantly, Harry pushed open the door to the living room. This was one conversation he didn't want to have, but Ginny, Ron and even Bill had begged him. Under that sort of pressure there was no way he could have ever said no.

"Oh, hello, Harry," Arthur Weasley greeted him. He was sitting on the sofa, a glass of whiskey in his hand and what appeared to be a book on Muggle weapons in his lap.

"Hi, Mr Weasley," Harry replied, as casually as he could. "How did the raid go today?"

"It went well," Arthur said, nodding approvingly. "You'll probably hear at the briefing tomorrow, but I think we pretty much destroyed the whole base. I suspect our information was correct and it was one of the Muggles' major supply dumps, at least judging from how well it burned."

"Good, good," Harry smiled, "and how did it go for you, personally? No problems?"

Arthur looked at him suspiciously. "No, I didn't experience any difficulties, Harry," he replied in a tight voice. "Why, did you hear differently?"

"Some people have been saying you've been rather… reckless, of late," he said slowly. "I've been told you single-handily charged the Muggle positions around the site. That wasn't part of the plan, Arthur."

"Maybe not, but it worked, didn't it?" he said stiffly. "We broke the enemy's lines. What's more important than that?"

"How about you not getting killed?"

"Poppycock! I did what had to be done," Arthur shouted. "I took no more risks than you or Ginny do."

"Except Ginny and I are both capable of producing Shield Charms that will stop anything short of a tank round, not to mention we always work together, one defending while the other attacks. You can't compare the way we fight with what you do."

"Well, I did the same as any other fighter. Honestly, Harry, way are you even bringing this up?"

"Because even Moody is worried about you," Harry retorted. "Do you know how he described your actions today to me? Suicidal, that's how. More to the point, this isn't the first time you've acted like this, either. Peterson said you vanished during the assault on that weapons factory the other day, and they had to look for you. It was only later they found out that you'd seen a group of soldiers defending the building and decided to attack them by yourself."

"I pinned them down while the others destroyed the target. It was the logical thing to do," Arthur snapped.

"Oh, was it? Just go off without telling the mission leader, that's the logical thing, is it? Not to mention, we have standing orders not to attack the Muggle troops on our own. It's too easy to get hit by a stray snipers round, or simply be overwhelmed. We don't have enough fighters that we can just throw them away, Arthur."

"Don't lecture me, young man!" Mr Weasley yelled, leaping to his feet. "I was fighting Death Eaters before you were born!"

"Yes, but you had Molly at your side then, didn't you?"

Harry watched as one of the few men he could ever have considered a father figure flinched as if he'd been struck. It was a low blow, he knew, but be believed he was getting to the core of the problem.

"How dare you!" Arthur growled.

"Do you have any idea how worried your children are about you?" Harry pressed. "They've already seen their mother and four of their brothers killed. What do you think it would do to them to see their father killed, too?"

"It's the risk we all take," Arthur said defensively.

"No, most of us take measured risks. I have never and will never ask anyone to attempt anything I consider too dangerous. Bloody hell, Arthur, we've lost almost sixty per cent of the magical population of Britain! We can't afford to lose any more! And we definitely can't afford to lose any more Weasleys."

"What do you expect me to do? Sit here in safety and let everyone else do the fighting? You think I could just sit here while my little girl goes out and fights?"

"No, but I do expect you to act sensibly and follow orders. You endangered the lives of the entire group by vanishing like that, and if you can't follow orders then I will ban you from going out on raids."

Arthur looked furious and his face turned an alarming shade of red. He seemed to be visibly trying to curb his temper, however, and after a few moments managed to speak in a civil tone.

"Very well, Harry, I will attempt to be more restrained from now on."

Harry nodded, but was far from convinced.

"Good, because I'll be leading the next attack you go on, and I'll be watching you. Ginny, too."

"I don't need my children looking over my shoulder!" he yelled, his temper spilling over again.

"Actually, I think you do," Harry disagreed. "Tell me, Arthur, how do you think Ginny took her mother's death?"

Mr Weasley actually looked a little shamefaced. "I thought she took it… fairly well. She's a strong girl, is my Ginny."

"Really? Do you know how many nights I held her as she cried herself to sleep?" Harry said in a hard voice. "She's good at maintaining a solid front because she hates to be thought of as weak, but it nearly broke her. Ron nearly came apart, too. If it wasn't for Hermione, I think he would have. Bill was lucky to have Fleur, as well."

"And who do I have, Harry?" Arthur asked bitterly. "Molly and I have been together since I was sixteen. Do you have any idea how empty my life feels now?"

"You have Ginny, Ron and Bill, and they need you!" Harry urged. "They need their father more now than any other time in their lives. I know you want to be with Molly; hell, I felt the same way after Sirius died. It felt like he was my only chance at having a normal, loving family and he was gone, and it was at least partly my fault. Don't you think I wanted to just head back to the Department of Mysteries and chuck myself through that bloody veil? But I kept going, partly in the hope things would get better, but mostly because I knew what effect killing myself would have on my friends, and I couldn't do that to them. Don't do that to your children, Arthur."

Mr Weasley stared at him in shock for a moment, before a single tear started to fall down his cheek. He tried to speak, but no sound came out and he clamped his mouth shut quickly.

"I know it's hard, Arthur," Harry continued in a sympathetic tone, "but you're not alone. Mr Lovegood knows exactly what you're going through, but he stayed strong for Luna's sake, remember. I love Ginny more than life itself, please don't hurt her by letting something happen to you."

With trembling lips, Arthur just nodded. Feeling he'd made his point, Harry just gave the man a casual slap on the arm and left the room. He knew that Arthur had a nearly full bottle of whiskey with him, but figured that just for tonight that might be the man's most fitting companion.

Then, tomorrow, they would start again. More raids, more fighting, and despite that fact that they seemed to be getting the upper hand, victory felt a very long way off.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

For a few moments, Mayer was tempted to ignore the ringing phone. Unfortunately, power such as he wielded meant responsibility, so wearily he pulled back the bedclothes and groped for his mobile phone.

"Oh, who's that at this hour?" his wife muttered sleepily.

"Go back to sleep, dear," he replied and quietly left the bedroom so he could take the call in the living area of his hotel suite. One glance at the screen revealed the called was Simon.

"Sir, the Russians and Chinese have reacted," his assistant said with little preamble.

"What have they done?" Mayer asked with trepidation. Things had been escalating for days, with the Indian Navy sinking a flotilla of Chinese warships operating in the Indian Ocean and numerous border clashes.

"NORAD have detected multiple missile launches from the Russian mainland and from just inside the Chinese border. The Chinese missiles are probably low-yield tactical stuff, but the Russians have launched ten full-size ICBM's."

"Sweet Jesus," Mayer breathed. "We're sure they're targeted at India?"

"Yes, NORAD have a clear track on them. Ten ICBM's, probably all equipped with multiple re-entry vehicles… we could be talking anywhere between ten to forty warheads."

Mayer went silent as he contemplated the living hell that India was about to become. Even if they were just targeting military facilities, the casualties would be horrendous. Add to that the suffering the Indian people had already had inflicted on them…

"Do we have a handle on what the President's response will be?" he asked.

"Probably extremely firm. The Russians moved another six divisions into the Ukraine this morning, and it looks likely they'll move against the Baltic nations, too. Poland have already requested NATO troops move into their country to take up blocking positions. The military are saying that nothing less than a limited nuclear strike against Russian and Chinese military targets will suffice. The Russians obviously think they can claw back all the territory and influence they lost at the end of the cold war while Europe is engulfed in this war with the Magicals."

Mayer closed his eyes for a moment. What more could he possibly do?

"Keep me informed," he said eventually.

"Sir?" Simon said, obviously surprised by the lack of orders.

"What do you want me to say?" Mayer asked irritably. "We hadn't counted on the damn Russians and Chinese trying to take advantage of the situation. You know, I actually thought we were taking the first steps to global unity. This was the first time all nations of the Earth had united against a common enemy. I guess I overestimated the bastards."

"I'll keep you informed," Simon promised, sounding suddenly deflated.

"Whatever happens, don't call before eight a.m." Mayer said briskly, before hanging up.

Feeling oddly lightheaded, he made his way back to bed.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Five… four… three… two… one…BOOM!" Ron yelled joyously.

Harry flinched slightly as the magical explosive charges detonated, shattering all four of the columns supporting Waterloo Bridge. For an agonisingly long moment, the main span remained rigidly in place, before a large crack began to form in the centre. A few seconds later, the whole bridge started to disintegrate and large chunks of stone began to tumble into the dark waters of the Thames.

"I'm getting as good as Seamus at blowing things up," Ron announced triumphantly.

"You are. We seem to have unearthed a natural talent in you," Harry agreed, laughing.

"I have to confess, I did rather enjoy that," Luna smiled. "It's definitely fun to create big explosions like that, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah!" Ron agreed.

Harry just shook his head. "What's next on our to-do list, Hermione?" he asked his friend.

"Well, we've taken out all our main targets for the night," she confirmed, trying to read her list in the faint light. "We still have plenty of secondary targets, though. I saw an electricity sub-station a way back. We should probably take that out next."

"Oh, that's boring," her boyfriend grumbled.

"Never mind, dear; we'll find you another nice bridge to blow up tomorrow," Hermione told him, patting him on the cheek.

"But only if you're a good boy and blow up all your sub-stations first," Ginny added with a grin.

"Alright," Ron sighed dramatically.

They all laughed and started to walk back along Victoria Embankment. It said a lot that a group of witches and wizards could openly walk through the centre of London in this manner, even if it wasn't immediately apparent that was what they were. All five of them wore Muggle clothing and had their wands hidden away. Of course, any soldier or policeman they encountered would have probably tried to arrest them for breaking the curfew if they'd seen them, but the streets seemed eerily quiet that night. With the electricity off, they would have been very hard to spot, too. Indeed, the only light came from distant fires that seemed to be raging around the great city.

"It looks like the other group managed to get Waterloo Railway Station," Hermione noted, peering across the river towards an area where a large blaze had sprung up.

"I hope Dad's okay," Ginny said in a worried voice.

"He will be. My Daddy's there to keep an eye on him, remember?" Luna said soothingly.

Harry smiled. He'd taken Arthur with him on a raid on a large military supply dump just two days ago and he'd been pleased to see the man had apparently taken their talk to heart. Even so, he'd asked Luna's father, Xeno Lovegood, to keep an eye on Arthur tonight. Just in case.

"There seem a lot of fires," Ron noted. "How many groups have we got operating in London tonight, anyway?"

"Only four," Hermione admitted. "You're right, there does seem a disproportional number of fires, doesn't there? I wonder what's going on."

"Well, were not going to find out standing about here," Harry said firmly. "Come on, we've got people to see, places to burn…"

"You know, you boys seem to take just a bit too much pleasure in destroying things," Hermione noted. "London isn't some plaything for you to just smash up, you know."

"Isn't it?" Luna asked with amusement in her voice. "Actually, I think that's exactly what it is. The Muggles have destroyed all our homes and shops, so I don't see why we can't do the same to theirs."

"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "Besides, it IS fun blowing things up."

"Not you too, Ginny," Hermione sighed.

"You're not going to get much sympathy tonight," Harry told her. "Especially after what just happened to Neville's place."

The Longbottom Manor had miraculously stayed untouched by the troubles until two days ago, when the Muggles had raised it to the ground using artillery. Neville's formidable Grandmother had Apparated into the middle of the artillery battery and personally destroyed every gun along with most of the crews. It had been too late to save the house, however, and she and Neville were currently living with the Abbott family. The old witch had remained stoic, but it was obvious to everyone that the loss of her family home had been a cruel blow. Neville and his new girlfriend were currently among the group causing havoc in the northern part of the capital.

Hermione chose not to comment further, and Harry suspected her heart wasn't in the argument, anyway. She'd seen too much to get worked up about the destruction of mere buildings.

"Hey, can anyone hear something?" Ginny asked suddenly.

They all stopped and listened intently. Sure enough, now he'd stopped walking Harry could hear a noise, like a distant roar. The odd shout could also be heard echoing somewhere amongst the city streets.

"There's supposed to be a curfew. Why are people still out and about?" Hermione said in a confused voice.

"I don't know, but I think we'd better be careful from now on," Harry said. "Don't draw them, but make sure you have your wands handy."

"Actually, I think the noise is coming from back the way we came," Luna said, looking back.

"She's right," Ginny agreed. "The noise is definitely coming from back there."

"Okay, so do you think we should check it out?" Ron asked.

"I think we'd better," Harry said, peering into the darkness. Was it lighter back there down the river? It seemed to be.

They followed the Thames Path back west. As they walked, Harry realised that the noise levels were definitely increasing and the light he'd thought he'd seen was getting brighter. Something was definitely going on.

They'd just gone passed Somerset House and were approaching Cleopatra's Needle when the river began to bend southward and they got a clear view down the Thames. What they saw shocked them.

"The Houses of parliament are on fire!" Hermione gasped. "But I don't understand; that wasn't one of our targets tonight!"

"What is that noise?" Ginny asked again. "It sounds like people."

"Lots of people," Luna agreed.

"You know, I'm starting to get a funny feeling about this," Harry said. "I think Ginny and I should scout ahead and see what's going on. You three Disillusion yourselves and wait here."

"Why should you two go ahead?" Ron asked indignantly.

"Oh, have you learnt to fly recently?" Ginny asked sarcastically.

"Ah, yes, I didn't think of that," Ron admitted. "It would be easier to just fly down there, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would," Harry smirked. "We'll Disillusion ourselves, too, so we won't been seen from the ground. Ginny and I can keep track of each other well enough."

"Okay, but be careful!" Hermione insisted. "We'll wait in the gardens."

"Good, you be careful, too," Harry said, before turning to his girlfriend. "Up for a bit of night flying, my love?"

"Always," she smiled, and pulled out her wand. A moment later, she vanished from sight although Harry could still see her magical aura. He'd always thought it rather beautiful.

He quickly followed her example, and seconds later they both shot into the air. As the crow flies, the Houses of Parliament weren't that far and it only took them a minute or two to reach them. Harry gasped as the area came into view.

"Harry, let's land on the roof of that building over there!" Ginny called out. He saw her bank and descend towards a large, flat roofed office building. He quickly turned and followed her, landing nimbly on the south side of the office complex. He hurried to look over the edge of the roof, where Ginny was already standing.

The scene amazed him. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people swarmed around Parliament Square. He could see a police van lying on its side, but no other sign of any form of authority was visible. The lawlessness of the mob was demonstrated when one figure, it's face hidden with a mask, ran forward and threw what looked like a Molotov Cocktail at the already burning Parliament Building. The bomb exploded with a bright burst of light, adding to the flames.

"What the hell is happening?" Ginny gasped.

"I think we have a lovely little riot on our hands," Harry noted. "Social order is starting to break down and the Muggle government is losing control."

"Really? Have we won, then?" Ginny asked in amazement.

"I don't think so," Harry told her. "Frankly, I think this is just blind panic. The population has reached breaking point, I suspect. Not only have they been left without power, but their whole way of life has been disrupted. They've seen a nuclear bomb go off on their own territory, its military systematically taken apart, and now they've got this situation with India to worry about. There's a real fear that this will all escalate into an all-out nuclear war. No wonder they're rioting!"

"India's a long way away," Ginny argued. "I mean, it's a tragedy what's happened over there, but why would it effect anyone here?"

"I don't think you understand, love. Russia and China have effectively destroyed one of the most populous countries in the world, while the Americans and British warned them not to. Just yesterday, Hermione speculated that America would have to launch its own strike at Russia just to warn them to back down. Their armies have already taken over half of Eastern Europe, and it looks like the Chinese are thinking of cashing in on the current troubles, too. I heard on the radio that they're demanding Taiwan disband their government and become part of China again. If the Yanks do nothing, there's no saying where the Russians and Chinese will stop."

"And if the Americans attack Russia…" Ginny said hesitantly.

"There's a real chance the whole thing will escalate and they start trading blow for blow."

"Harry, is this the start of what Florean was hinting at? He talked about this imperfect world being reduced to a pile of radioactive dust. That could actually bloody happen!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Yeah, it could. Once the big boys start chucking their little toys about… who knows how far this could go," he said grimly.

They turned back and watched the rioters for a while longer. Nothing seemed to miss the mob's attention; they were intent on destroying everything they could get their hands on. Even the road signs were uprooted and used as makeshift battering rams to create even more damage.

Deciding they needed to establish how widespread the rioting was, Harry and Ginny again took to the air and flew northward. Pretty soon they caught sight of something that made them stop and stare. A gang of thugs had cornered a policeman, who was lying on the ground as they kicked him viciously.

"Should we do something?" Ginny asked.

"Why? That copper is our enemy. How many of our kind have they rounded up never to be seen again?" Harry asked in a hard voice.

"True, but it just seems weird, not doing anything," she admitted.

Harry had to agree with her. No matter how much he hated the Muggle authorities, this one man had just been doing his job. Even if some other time he'd been responsible for arresting a witch or wizard, Harry couldn't just stand by and watch him being kicked to death.

Pulling out his wand, he sent a bubble of pure energy towards the mob. It exploded just above their heads with enough force to send them flying through the air. Most were knocked unconscious, but a few were rolling on the ground, moaning.

"Never was much for mob rule," Harry sniffed.

"Just one of the many reasons I love you," Ginny replied.

They flew on further until they came to a street lined with shops. Looters were out in force, and Harry could only stare in disbelief at the hordes of people eagerly helping themselves to electrical goods.

"What's the point of nicking a new telly? The electricity is only on for a few hours a day, anyway," he sneered and a pair of men carefully lifted a large television out of the shattered front window of a branch of Dixons.

"No idea," Ginny replied sadly. "You know what this reminds me of? That Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade. It's exactly the same sort of thing. Back then it was wizard preying on wizard, but now it's Muggle preying on Muggle. I guess we're all the same, really."

"It doesn't take much for us to degenerate into a murderous mob, does it?" Harry agreed. "At the first opportunity, there's always people eager to rape, steal and kill."

"But why does it have to be like this?" Ginny protested. "Why do be people have to be so shallow and mean? Why can't we all just get along? Why are there so few decent people in the world? I mean, take my mum, for example. She would have never turned away a hungry mouth. She was always kind and generous, and hated injustice. Why can't there be more people like her?"

"I think your mother was a rare diamond, Ginny. I really don't think there'll ever be many people like her," Harry admitted with a lump in his throat.

"Is there really nothing we can do to change things?"

"I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "I guess you'd have to rebuild society from the ground up, really. Start changing people's perceptions right from their earliest years. That's a pretty tall order."

"But didn't Dumbledore say that we were potentially capable of anything?" Ginny reminded him. "We just have to let our imaginations run free and we can do anything!"

"You and me - changing the world by ourselves?" he asked with a smile.

"Why not? I believe in you, Harry, and I think you can do anything if you put your mind to it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, my love, but I don't think it's just down to me," he sighed. "The way the Muggles are going there won't be a world left for us to change, anyway."

"Then maybe we need to find a new world," she said quietly.

Harry said nothing, but stared out at the dark streets of London which by now were becoming increasingly illuminated by the fires that were spreading rapidly. Was this world destined to be consumed in flames, just like Hogsmeade was?

Somehow, he knew that he would be finding out the answer to the question very shortly.


	25. Chapter 25 – Odyssey

**Chapter 25 – Odyssey**

So, we've finally reached the end of this story. Bearing in mind the first drafts of this were started before I even began 'Homecoming', I've been working on this story for a very long time, by my standards, at least.

The reaction to it has surprised me at times. I never quite expected so much debate regarding the exact capabilities of magic in the Harry Potter world, while I had expected more on the morality issues that fighting the Muggles would present. I guess I should have realised everyone would come firmly down on the side of Harry and his fellow Magicals. I never did like those pesky Muggles, anyway…

Once can I state my massive gratitude to Arnel for her help and support throughout this story (even if she wanted to dismember me after I nuked Hogwarts). Oh, and thanks to GHL for those additional pointers, too.

Right, I'm off to write my next story: Harry Potter meets Hammer Horror! Should be fun.

* * *

A message issued from the office of the President of the United States at nine hundred hours this morning.

 _"_ _My fellow Americans. I speak to you in a time of deep national crisis. America currently faces the greatest challenges it has ever faced throughout its history, and we are beset from terrorist elements in our own borders and even more insidious threats from outside._

 _Yesterday, I spoke with the President of Russia to demand that he cease all military action against India, and to also withdraw his forces from the independent states of the Ukraine, Belarus, Moldova, Estonia, Lithuania and Latvia. Despite him making some vague assurances on ceasing action against India, this was conditional on 'certain conditions' being met. Also, I was met with a flat refusal to withdraw the Russian army from the Eastern European countries they have occupied, supposedly on the grounds of national security. This is unacceptable. I therefore issued an ultimatum, demanding that the President confirm that our demands will be met within twenty-four hours. I have received no such confirmation._

 _In view of the seriousness of the situation, the US government feels that we have no choice other than to react with a level of force we feel is appropriate to the situation. Two hours ago, US Navy ballistic missile submarines launched two missiles. One was targeted at the Russian city of Murmansk, this being the location of the North Sea Fleet headquarters and a viable military target. The other missile was fired at the Chinese city of Qingdao, which serves a similar function for the Chinese fleet. Dentation on both targets has been confirmed, and substantial damage has been inflicted._

 _I say now to the people of both Russia and China that we did not take this action lightly. The virtual annihilation of India as a functioning state is a crime without comparison, and those countries must learn that they cannot use nuclear weapons with impunity. I now call on Russia and China to formally announce they have ceased military action against India, for China to confirm it has no intentions to attack Taiwan, and for the Russian army to pull back to within its own borders._

 _I will expect a response to these demands from both countries within forty-eight hours. If I do not receive this, then America will have to consider taking further steps to ensure world peace and stability._

 _God bless you all."_

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry looked around him, uncertain how he had reached this place. The last thing he remembered, he'd been asleep at Grimmauld Place with Ginny in his arms. Now, he was uncertain where he was.

He appeared to be in some vast field of golden wheat that was swaying gently in the breeze. The sky above him was a strange golden hue, as if sunset was about to fall, which was strange as the sun was high in the sky and bathing him its warmth.

The ground started to slope downwards perhaps two hundred yards ahead of him and the golden wheat gave way to lush grass with trees interspersed at random intervals. At the bottom of the slope a river could be seen trickling past lazily. The air itself seemed full of dandelion heads, floating in the breeze. Despite his confusion, he couldn't help but smile. The place was truly beautiful.

"It's breath-taking, isn't it?"

Harry turned, for some reason completely unsurprised that Ginny was with him here, too. Her appearance was unusual, however. She seemed a little older, and her body had come into full womanhood. This was emphasised by the simple, sleeveless, white dress she wore. He'd always thought she looked like a goddess, but today that was quite literally true. Looking down at himself, he realised he wore a short, white smock, such as he would imagine the Greek Gods wearing. He laughed to himself, realising that he was dreaming.

"Oh, no, young Harry. You're not dreaming."

They both turned and saw Hadraniel standing there, in a spot which had been empty just a moment before. He still wore his baggy tweed suit which looked ridiculously out of place in their present surroundings. He grinned at them mischievously.

"Where are we then?" Harry asked in amusement. For some reason, he felt completely at peace in these strange surroundings, and unconcerned at anything that was happening.

"You should know, my dear boy; you created this world. At least, you and your delightful young companion did. This is a place created by your conjoined imaginations. Really, it's no surprise it's so beautiful. After all, you two are quite the most beautiful souls I have ever encountered."

"What do you mean, we created it?" Ginny asked in puzzlement. "I think I would remember creating a place like this! Besides, where exactly is this? I don't think this would all fit in our bedroom."

"Quite so, Miss Weasley," Hadraniel agreed with amusement evident on his face. "I suppose when I said you weren't dreaming I wasn't being totally correct, although what you are experiencing is completely different to what you would normally refer to as a dream. This place has substance and form, and is as real as you or I. However, the moment you wake up it will cease to exist."

"Did you ever meet Albus Dumbledore? He liked to talk in riddles just like you," Harry snorted.

"No, I never met the man, with good reason, actually. Still, talking in riddles is a habit many people develop if they wish to appear more intelligent than they actually are. It's a bit of a get-out clause, really. You can spout off any old rubbish and then twist it at a later date to fit actual events. Easy!"

"At least you're honest about it," Harry conceded. "Still, would you like to explain why Ginny and I have suddenly started creating new worlds in our sleep?"

"The simple answer is necessity," he replied, looking suddenly stern. "The more complex answer has to do with your own unconscious desires and dreams. Did you, Miss Weasley, not express a desire for humanity to change? For you all to live to a higher, more noble standard? Was that not in itself a subconscious appeal to start again, somewhere new?"

"What, and we've created this new world for that purpose, have we?" Ginny asked, sounding slight exasperated. "Just me and Harry? Like a new Adam and Eve?"

"Naturally not! Adam and Eve is a ridiculous myth created by men who should have known better, but had been corrupted by powers much greater than themselves. And no one is suggesting you should populate a whole planet all by yourselves. Heavens, no! I strongly suspect that the pair of you will one day be blessed by a clutch of children, but I'm quite sure that you wouldn't want them to have to resort to incest to maintain the line. Besides, I know you would never desert your friends and remaining family."

"So, what is the purpose of all this?" Harry demanded.

"Consider this a trial run," Hadraniel informed them. "Just think, the pair of you, without consciously even realising that you were working together, created this beautiful world. Note the detail you have put into it: crops that can be turned into food, water to drink. A whole ecological system created in the blink of an eye."

Harry just stared at the small man for a moment, feeling he was missing something. Something very important.

"Where are we, exactly," he asked forcefully.

"Ah, I don't believe we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," Hadraniel replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"That's not very specific," Harry said disapprovingly.

"No, it isn't, is it? The truth is, I'm not entirely sure where we are. It was you and Ginny, after all, who created this world and its actual location is down to you. Suffice to say that this place doesn't exist within the confines of your own universe. You have both managed to reach a higher plane of existence, one that appears to be mercifully free of interference."

"Wait! When you told us how to banish the Dementors, you told us they came from another dimension. Is this where we are? In the dimension that Dementors come from?" Ginny asked with a note of panic in her voice.

"Oh my, no!" Hadraniel exclaimed, evidently amused by the idea. "Dementors are demons from the lower worlds. You two, being creatures of light and goodness, naturally have come to one of the higher worlds. This place, this reality, it's on a higher plane of existence than the one you have just left."

"So, no Dementors, then. But do other beings live here?" Harry asked.

"Not in this place, no. You might travel to other dimensions that are inhabited, but the chances of that are extremely small. In a sense, you two have also created this dimension, along with this individual planet."

"This is ridiculous! I wouldn't have the faintest idea how to make all this," Harry argued, waving his hand at the surrounding countryside. "How would I know how to create plants, for instance?"

"Didn't you once create a whole new type of flower, just to show your girlfriend how much you love her?" Hadraniel challenged.

Harry nodded. He'd completely forgotten that first training session with Dumbledore that both he and Ginny had jointly attended. His soul desire had been to create something unique, just for her, and he hadn't for a moment considered that he had no idea how to make a living thing such as the flower he had made for her.

"So, what you're saying, is that I don't need to know the specifics of how this is all created, I just need the will and intent?"

"Quite so, my dear boy. Albus Dumbledore, for all his faults, was a marvellous educator. That was part of the reason I was prepared to step back all this time and let him guide you to understanding. He has, I must say, done a wonderful job."

"I still don't understand all this," Ginny admitted.

"I would be immensely surprised if you did," Hadraniel smiled. "Remember, this was just a trial run, to prove to yourselves what you are capable of. I suggest you both discuss this further when you wake up."

"Will we remember this?" Harry asked.

"Oh, without a shadow of a doubt. Here, let me demonstrate!"

Hadraniel clicked his fingers and, in an instant, the golden field disappeared, to be replaced by total darkness. Harry gasped and leapt up, only to feel something falling away from him. In a panic, he fumbled for his wand which was lying on his bedside table, and with a swish caused the lights to come on.

Immediately, he realised he was in his bedroom in Grimmauld Place and the object he had roughly pushed from him was Ginny. With a disgruntled look, she pulled herself back onto the bed.

"Nice work, Potter," she growled.

"Sorry, luv," Harry apologised. "I was just having the weirdest dream, that was all."

"Yeah, yeah," she groused, slipping back under the covers. "Golden fields of wheat, strange little men in tweed suits, us creating a bloody planet. I had it too, but at least I didn't feel the need to kick you out of bed afterwards."

"You mean that was real?" he gasped.

"Real? How the bloody hell do I know if it was real? I'm as bloody confused as you are. I'm just saying that I handled the shock with a bit more decorum than some people," Ginny snorted.

Harry was about to retort, but the words died on his lips. Suddenly, he was filled with a mounting excitement, such as he had not felt since his early days training with Dumbledore. He felt exactly the same as when he'd discovered the ambient magic swirling around him, ready to tap into. The old wizard had constantly tried to impress upon him that he shouldn't set himself limits, that anything was possible. Now, finally, he was beginning to understand just exactly how far the implications of that went.

"Ginny, we need to talk," he said eventually.

"You think, genius?" she with a sarcastic smirk on her lips.

Harry snorted with laughter. He might apparently have just tapped into the power of the gods, but Ginny certainly was never going to let it go to his head.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Jeff Mayer stared out of the window of his hotel room, a large glass of scotch in his hand. At least the blasted rioters appeared to be giving it a rest tonight, he thought gratefully.

In truth, he was feeling extremely apprehensive. The deadline the President had set for a response from the Sino-Russian alliance was fast approaching, and he had no great hopes that they would hear anything. His gut instinct was that rather than cave into American demands, they would probably trade blow for blow. Which city was next in line for a nuke?

Taking a sip of his drink, he let the liquid burn down his throat. Never before had he been so confused or dispirited. He was a man who had never failed at anything in his life. He had built up a vast business empire, crushed his foes ruthlessly, and extended his influence to all four corners of the globe. But tonight, he was just a passive bystander, forced to watch from the side-lines as his plans unfurled around him. Silently, he prayed for a sign from God; something to guide him back to the right path.

"You know, it's very rude not to offer your guests a drink."

Mayer nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun round, and was horrified to see two figures sitting calmly on his couch. One of them was a thin, dark-haired youth who stared at him hatefully through bright green eyes. The other was a pretty young girl with vibrant red hair. Unfortunately, he recognised both of them. It was Harry Potter and the witch who had blown the top clear off the Security Services building.

And they were sitting right in front of him.

"How the hell did you get in here?" he demanded, wondering whether to yell for his security guards.

"Oh, didn't you know? We're magical!" the girl said, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

"How did you even know where to find me?" he asked, playing for time.

"I can read minds," Potter said casually. "I learnt where you were staying when we talked a while back. I did think about paying you a little visit before now, but I think now is the perfect time."

"So you can kill me?" Mayer demanded. He was unsurprised to find that he wasn't afraid to die. He was, however, appalled at the idea Potter could just pull thoughts from his head. He was a man who knew things about others, but remained in the shadows. This was a shocking turnaround.

"You deserve to die," the girl spat. "Because of you, my mother and two of my brothers are dead! I've already lost two other brothers fighting Voldemort, and that was to protect you ungrateful Muggle bastards!"

"Ungrateful? You forget yourself, witch!" Meyer retorted angrily. "How many non-magicals have died at the hands of your type? How many wars have you started? How much suffering has your magic caused? Well, it's time for the world to be rid of your satanic ways."

"Satanic?" Potter laughed. "I think you've been watching too many Hammer Horror films, mate! We don't worship the devil!"

"The only thing Harry worships is me," the girl giggled. "Oh, and treacle tart, I suppose."

"Do you have no god?" Mayer demanded.

"Not in the sense you do," Potter replied. "Oh, some witches and wizards do have individual codes of worship, but no, we don't believe in some great, all-powerful god in the sky. Likewise, we don't believe in some bloke with horns and a pitchfork, either."

"Did you know that us Magicals, as you call us, can speak with ghosts?" the girl asked. "That's the spirits of actual dead people, mind. We have an insight into the afterlife, and a clearer vision of what comes next than you Muggles do. There's no heaven up in the clouds, and no fiery pits down below, either. We just move onto the next great adventure, as I once heard a wise man describe it."

"That's not to say there aren't enormously powerful beings out there, though. Beings of pure energy and light, which live on higher planes of existence. One such being created this world, you know. I suppose you would call him your god, but believe me when I say he's radically different to how you imagine him," Potter added.

"Don't you dare blaspheme in my presence!" Mayer raged. "My god is a god of light and purity. Don't you dare slander his good name with your evil."

"That's what he wants you to think, anyway," Potter replied with a casual shrug.

"What do you hope to achieve here?" Mayer asked in a hard voice. "If you're going to kill me, just get on with it, damn you."

"We're not here to kill," Potter said in surprise. "No, we're here to ask you a question."

"What question?"

"Why?"

"Why what?" Mayer spluttered. "What are you talking about?"

"Why all this?" Potter demanded. "Why start this war? Look at where it's led us. How many millions are dead because you wanted to stamp out a race of people who are a bit different from you? The world stands on the brink of total destruction, and it's all because of your crusade. Are you proud of yourself? Are you pleased with what you've achieved?"

"I don't have to answer to you," Mayer growled.

"Then answer to me," the witch yelled, pulling out her wand. "My mother and half my family are dead because of you! Let me tell you, you bastard, I'm about a hair's breadth from inflicting such agony on you that it would probably drive you insane within a few minutes. Would you like that, Mayer? Would that make you a suitable martyr for your god? Well, answer the bloody question or you'll find out!"

"And you have the nerve to say you're not evil," Mayer taunted them.

"I could just tear the answers from your mind," Potter said in a cold voice. "I could look into your eyes and rip the information I want from your thoughts. I could violate every private memory you've ever had, and probably leave you scarred for life. Do you want that?"

Mayer paused. He wasn't afraid of death, or even of pain, but to have his mind raped like that? No, he'd tell this blasted heathen exactly what he wanted to know.

"Alright, I'll tell you. Why did I start this war? Because it was the right thing to do. You types are freaks; abominations that are an affront to nature. No human being should have the powers you have, and the way you all abuse those powers are proof enough of that! Am I proud of what I've done? Yes, immensely! Oh, I'm sorry those blasted Russians and Chinese decided to ruin everything by trying to take advantage of the situation, but that was not my intent. But I am proud of every single Magical that we've managed to kill, and let me tell you, we won't stop until you're all dead. The world will be cleansed, by the mercy of God!"

Potter and the girl exchanged a look. Mayer had the feeling they were somehow silently communicating, but what was being said he had no idea. Eventually, Potter turned back to him.

"You know, Mayer, by your reckoning, you're going to be a very lucky man. You're going to get exactly what you want," he said.

"What, your deaths?" Mayer asked vindictively.

"No, to serve your god for all of eternity."

Mayer was somewhat taken aback. Why was Potter saying this to him? Surely he realised that as a good Christian, this was exactly what he wanted.

"Someday, however, you'll realise that it's a curse, not a blessing," the girl added. "Your soul will be locked in slavery for all eternity."

"If it's slavery, then I welcome it!" Mayer said proudly. "For it is a profound form of slavery. A slavery of love! I rejoice at the very thought, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise."

"I'm not going to try and convince you otherwise, because I don't think you're ready to hear the truth," Potter said sadly. "The fact that you're ready to see millions if not billions die just to appease what you believe to be the will of your god says everything. The really terrible thing about this is that it will go on forever. You'll grow old and die eventually, and then just be reborn straight into slavery. You'll probably be glad about it, too. But one day, perhaps a hundred years from now, perhaps a million years ahead, one day, you'll realise what is happening to you and want to escape. And you know what the truly terrible thing about that is?"

"What?" Mayer demanded irritably.

"That you were partly responsible for your only means of escape vanishing."

Potter and the red haired witch stood then, and silently joined hands. A moment later, they blinked out of existence with just a small popping sound. Mayer stood and stared at the empty space for some time, before he squared his shoulders and called for his assistant.

"Sir?" Simon said as soon as he entered the room. His clothing was rumpled and he had bags under his eyes. Jeff knew he'd been sleeping on a couch in the neighbouring room so he'd be nearby if he was need. He was a damn fine man, was Simon.

"I need to speak to the President," Mayer said bluntly. "It's top priority. If he's sleeping someone will need to wake him up."

"Of course," Simon said warily. "Is there something I should know, sir?"

Mayer looked at the man with a kindly smile.

"No, Simon. It's just time for us to end all this. Now, if you could arrange that call as soon as possible, please."

Simon hurried from the room, while Mayer took a seat on the couch that Potter and his witch had been sitting just moments before. He drained the glass of scotch that he'd been clutching so protectively, and refilled it from the bottle that was conveniently placed on the coffee table in front of him. He refilled the glass three times before the call came through.

"Bill, yes, it's Jeff. No, I'm sorry to drag you out of that meeting, but I've just received some vital information that you need to hear. No, this came from my other sources, the military weren't involved. No… no… just listen, Bill! I've just heard from a contact in Russia. They've decided their next move… no, no that's not right… I… Bill, will you just listen to me, for Christ sake! It turns out that they believe that our nuclear forces have been weakened sufficiently that they can take us out in an all-out first strike. No, I'm not joking. As we speak, they're moving all available nuclear assets into position. ICBM, subs, long range bombers, the works! My intelligence says they're only waiting so they can co-ordinate with the Chinese. No, joint effort. Yes, that's right. No, listen, Bill; we need to strike first! If we wait any longer then those damn Magicals might actually weaken us too much. We need to hit every major Russian target as hard as we can as soon as we can. Yes… that's right. I'm sure your intelligence assets can confirm that. Yes. Okay, I'll stay here in London. I'm sure the Brits will commit their remaining assets, too. Okay, I'll speak to you later."

Mayer put down the phone and looked up to see Simon staring at him in horror.

"Sir, we haven't heard anything from the Russians! We don't even have any human intelligence assets left in Moscow!" he protested.

"I know," Mayer replied simply.

"But… this could mean all-out nuclear war! This could be the end of the world! Why, sir, why?"

"Because it's God's will," Mayer smiled. "Earlier, I had a visit from some of our Magical friends. I think it was their intention to make me second-guess myself and stop the war. Well, they made a major mistake. They tried to convince me that God was some fallible being that just plays with us and doesn't care as to our fate. But I saw through their lies. God is love, Simon, and he will preserve the souls of the righteous. I see what we have to do now… these Magicals… these devil worshipers… the power they hold is obscene. We can't hope to stamp them out completely, no matter what we do, and that is an abomination. They must be swept from the earth, by whatever means available. They must be destroyed, and we must put our faith in God."

"What do you mean?" Simon asked fearfully.

"Rapture," Mayer said simply.

He lifted the glass of scotch to his lips again, even as Simon stumbled out of the door, his expression one of total shock. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore, it was out of their hands.

God would prevail.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"How many do we have here now, Hermione?" Harry asked.

His friend raised her wand and cast a spell with an elegant swish. A moment later, numbers began to glow in the air in front of her.

"Just over a hundred and sixty thousand," she replied.

"That's all?" Ginny asked, sounding disappointed.

"We didn't have much time to spread the word, and travel has become pretty difficult in a lot of places," Hermione noted sadly.

Harry looked around him. Twilight was gathering, but wherever he looked he could still see the thousands of witches and wizards in the failing light, all seated on the grassy slopes. They were dressed in a multitude of different colours and styles, reflecting their different nationalities. They'd barely had a week to gather them from every corner of the globe, mostly through radio messages and via whatever working administration the various countries had left. They had come in dribs and drabs, many from certain countries but only a handful from others. France, for instance, was well represented, but no one from Russia, India or China had come. Amazingly, one of the first to arrive had been a small family from Argentina, who had told a harrowing tale of the fate of many Magicals in South America. Just yesterday, over two thousand had turned up from Australia and a hundred from the Philippines. Worryingly, there had been no new arrivals today.

Very few non-human creatures had joined them, either. Just a few hundred house-elves. The other species had either ignored his pleas, or were already dead. There were, however, a splattering of Squibs and even a few Muggles. Cho had contacted Harry just a few days before, begging for her fiancé and his family to be allowed to come. It was almost with relief that he'd told her they were welcome. Despite everything, he hadn't become like Malfoy, after all.

They'd chosen Stonehenge as a meeting place, in the end, mainly as its location as so well-known rather than for any magical or symbolic importance the place had. They'd cleared the Muggles away the day before, including the last of the military who had bases nearby. The roads had been blocked and a perimeter set. Harry had worried that such a gathering would present a juicy target to the Muggles, but so far they'd been able to hide their presence here successfully. No doubt the Muggle governments had other things to worry about.

"How long are you…" Hermione began but was cut short by a flash of light which briefly illuminated the darkening sky. As one, the small group of friends spun around and peered eastward.

"Where did that come from?" Ron asked.

"London, I suspect. We're less than a hundred miles away," Hermione replied. "Still, it must have been a pretty big blast for us to see it from here. Several megatons, I should imagine."

"It's started, then," Ron said sadly.

Harry nodded, saddened that they had all become such experts on nuclear weapons. He looked around at the closest of the assembled crowd, who were by now staring eastwards nervously. There were many familiar faces there. Luna and her father sat with Arthur Weasley. Seeing him look at her, Luna gave him a radiant smile. Next to them, Bill was sitting with his arm around Fleur, with the rest of the Delacours nearby, including Gabrielle who waved at him. He smiled as he saw Hedwig ghosting between the stones of the henge, clearly enjoying the open space in which to fly. For a moment, he thought of all of those who should have been here, but had died either by Voldemort's hand, or that of the Muggles. He sighed deeply, and came to a decision.

"It's time," he said loudly. "We can't afford to wait any longer."

"I'd hoped we could leave it a bit longer, but I suppose you're right," Hermione lamented. "If they've taken out London…"

"Then the end is near," Ginny finished for her friend.

Hermione nodded, but said nothing. Harry wondered if she was thinking of her parents.

"Come on, love. We need to make a start," Ginny said, taking his hand.

All around, the crowd began to stir, perhaps sensing something was happening, and began climbing to their feet. Taking a deep breath, Harry led Ginny to the edge of the massive stone circle. He stopped and looked at her, and saw only love and trust in her large, brown eyes. For her, he would do the impossible.

Wordlessly, the two of them reached out and began to pull the raw, ambient magic to themselves. There was no doubt or hesitation in either of their minds. They both knew exactly what they had to do.

Raising his wand, Harry made a swift downward motion. In front of him, the very fabric of the universe split open like a rip in a piece of material. He peered through the gash in reality and through the shimmering haze he could see a wide open field that spread out under a golden sky.

"Let's go," he said simply.

With Ginny's hand in his, he stepped forwards, leaving a fractured, burning planet behind.


End file.
